Off the Record: Dead Rising
by Metal Harbinger
Summary: The rebooted "Dead Rising: Case Greene." A "what if" scenario similar to "Off the Record" where Chuck Greene and his daughter Katey are passing through Willamette, Colorado on their way to a mountain retreat, only to find themselves caught in the middle of a zombie outbreak and an even greater conspiracy coming to fruition.
1. The Beginning of Heartache

Off the Record: Dead Rising

by Metal Harbinger

**Author's Note:** And so I have returned loyal Dead Rising readers!

My last effort ended up getting a little too jumbled for my liking as I obsessed over how I would include new elements into the events of Willamette and it ended up driving me crazy to the point I was forced to hit the breaks and go back to the drawing board.

But I'm hoping that the second time can be the charm and that things will go about more smoothly.

Once again this story is intended to be my answer to "Off the Record," which features Frank West in the Fortune City locale. In this case I will try to answer the question "What if it was Chuck Greene in Willamette?"

As always feedback is greatly appreciated, so don't be afraid to drop a review or just drop a line and say hello.

Now on with the story!

Chapter 1: The Beginning of Heartache

Chuck Green exhaled deeply as the cool mountain breeze flowed through the opened window, ruffling his sandy blond hair and filling his nostrils with pure mountain air. He was forced to slow his truck to a gradual halt as a small herd of deer bounded across the mountain highway and it was then he had his chance to stop and admire the natural beauty around him.

The late morning sun shone proudly over the ancient mountains, evergreen forests and crystalline streams, bird songs filling the air, the natural aroma of mint and pine...it all had such a tranquilizing effect upon him, reminding him of all the camping trips he and his father would go on when he was little.

_"Pam loved the outdoors too," _he thought to himself, feeling a fresh tear creeping from the corner of his right eye.

A sudden cacophony of electronic beeps and zaps followed by a cheesy superhero theme distracted him from his train of thought and he looked over to the blonde haired girl strapped into the passenger's seat, staring intently at the red device held in front of her.

"Daddy, look! I just reached Level 8! Now Mega Man can use the 'Fire Storm' attack!" 8-year old Katey Greene triumphantly exclaimed raising her Joy-Boy 3000 so her father could see the screen.

The former motocross champion felt another wave of emotion wash over him as his beloved daughter's beautiful blue eyes fell upon him and he took a deep breath to calm himself.

"Yeah, I see that! That's terrific! I'm so proud of you. Keep up the good work," he blurted out wanting to do whatever he could to prevent his daughter from making further inquiries.

He was thankful to be wearing shades so she wouldn't be able to see the tear he was forced to blink away. There was no way he could allow himself to break down in front of her after everything that had been going on recently.

_"You need to stay strong," _he had told himself over and over again, _"If you can't do it for Pam, do it for your daughter. She needs a father now more than ever."_

"Daddy, why are we stopping?" Katey asked as a semi-truck rounded the winding trail from the opposite lane.

"What?" Chuck blurted out, jumping as a horn blared from behind him and he looked into the rearview mirror to see an auburn-haired woman in a station wagon, a child of her own in the passenger's seat.

"Oh! Oh yeah!" he said stepping on the gas and rounding the trail.

They drove along in silence for a few more miles until a town came into view from a distance, a nearby road sign telling him the next exit would take him to a town called 'Willamette.'

_"Continue northbound for another quarter mile, then take the Exit 28-S and continue following for 3.5 miles," _the electronic female voice called out from his G.P.S., telling him he would be passing through the community.

Looking down to the gas meter he saw he would be due for a refill, so a stop would be necessary.

XXXXX

According to another sign greeting him on his way in, Willamette, Colorado was a town of 53,594 people, yet it held a surprisingly laid back mountain atmosphere he didn't expect in a place larger than the sign suggested.

Chuck drove down Sycamore St. where several residents could be seen going about their daily routines, some of them taking notice of the tourist passing through and stopping to offer a friendly wave which he was all too happy to return. All seemed normal until he looked over to his right on Forest Avenue.

A squad car was parked at an angle barring access to the side street and an officer was present to hold several curious onlookers at bay. Behind him he saw the aftermath of an auto accident where a white sedan had crashed through the front window of a clock store. A team of paramedics emerged from the small building and were leading a covered figure to a waiting ambulance.

The former motocross champ looked down to Katey, who was still thankfully engrossed in her hand held game.

"Thank God," he muttered to himself, her young eyes spared from the distressing sight. A flood of bad memories came back to the young man and he sped away wanting to get what he needed and get out. Eventually he happened across the Tornado Gas Station and pulled up to one of the pumps.

"Alright, you just stay in here," Chuck said to his daughter as he switched the truck off and made his way to the pump. He reached into his wallet and pulled out his credit card to swipe through the pump's card reader. When an electronic beep followed he reached for the pump and pulled back the flap to open his gas tank and slid the nozzle in, punching in what kind of gas he wanted and clicking it into place.

He looked around while waiting patiently for his tank to fill up and looked across to see a sleek red convertible that almost made him drool.

The car's owner stood next to it pumping gas, a man of Latin descent who appeared around his age with jet black hair that fell to the bottom of his neck, an expensive-looking white dress shirt with wasp-like designs on it, black dress slacks and matching loafers. The top buttons of his shirt were open to reveal the medallion he wore underneath.

Whoever this man was he stood out like a sore thumb in a sleepy community like Willamette, looking more so like he belonged in some palatial tropical estate, relaxing by the pool with a martini in hand and two women at each side.

"Daddy, I have to go to the bathroom," Katey called out, distracting him from his current train of thought.

"Okay sweetie, just a sec," Chuck replied as he waited for the pump to click, signaling that his tank was full and he slid the pump back into place then waited for his receipt to print. "Okay, c'mon."

He waited for his daughter to unbuckle her seat belt and followed her inside, watching as she disappeared into the ladies' room.

The smell of freshly-cooked pizza wafted into his nostrils and he looked over to a nearby grill. Knowing the noon hour was fast approaching and feeling his stomach rumble on cue, Chuck decided he would get some snacks for the trip ahead of them and walked over to lift the lid, pulling out a cheese and sausage pizza for himself and then a pepperoni and sausage one for Katey, her favorite, then making his way over to a nearby rack to grab some snacks for her and then over to a nearby cooler to grab two bottled sodas, one a Highland Mist and the other a Diet Fizzy Cola.

He waited for Katey to make her way out and then made his way over to the cashier to pay for his food.

"Ooh, Daddy look!" the 8-year old suddenly called out.

"What is it-" Chuck asked looking away from the cashier, only to gasp audibly and have his blue eyes nearly bulge out from behind his shades.

Taped to a nearby window was a flier prominently displaying the grinning visage of a red-haired circus clown with two large chainsaws in hand. The big bold text underneath read _"PERFORMING LIVE AT THE WILLAMETTE PARKVIEW MALL ON SAT. SEPT. 20TH, 2014: BEBOP THE CLOWN!"_

"That's today Daddy! Can I go? Pretty please!" the child pleaded tugging away at his racing jacket's sleeve.

Chuck swallowed hard.

He had been terrified of clowns ever since getting lost in that carnival's fun house when he was around Katey's age. All he could remember were those clowns leaping out at him from every direction: their bright, garish costumes, the greasepaint, those big red noses, all that jarring laughter...

It was a horrific incident that had given him nightmares for weeks and even to this day he would find himself getting anxious whenever seeing one.

"Please Daddy? I promise I'll behave if you let me!" Katey shouted.

Chuck removed his shades and looked down into his daughter's big, bright blue eyes, their hue matching his own. It was a disarming sight that opened a new conflict within his mind.

Sure he was scared of clowns, yet at the same time the more logical part of his mind reminded him she would need some form of distraction following what had happened to her mother. He could use the opportunity to walk around and explore some of the mall's shops too, having been on the road for nearly three hours straight.

"Well, we've got all day to get up to Mt. Buckingham," he said taking his daughter by the hand, "I guess we could manage a little detour on the way," he finished, not sounding too sure of himself. His only motivation was the sake of his daughter.

"Oh, thank you Daddy! Thank you so much!" Katey Greene triumphantly whooped squeezing him tightly around his waist. "You're the bestest Dad in the entire world!"

"Anything for you sweetie," he said ruffling her hair as they made their way outside and back towards his waiting truck.

_"Come on Chuck. You can do this," _he told himself as he briefly stood in place, hoping the cool breeze would have a calming effect.

Instead he was again distracted by a faint buzzing from above that gradually grew louder as the owner drew nearer and he barely ducked in time before the large bee could connect with his head.

If there was one thing else he hated aside from clowns, it was bees.

"Gah! Get away!" he shouted forcing the bee away with a swipe from his left hand. He missed and the large bee only seemed more emboldened, attempting another dive bomb interrupted by a back hand from the former racer.

"Good riddance," Chuck spat before quickly pulling himself into the truck and slamming the door shut behind him, wanting to be out of here before anything else could get to him.

Little did the unsuspecting Chuck Greene know, he hadn't stricken the bee hard enough and it survived. Instead it would go off in search of a new host. It had a mission to carry out for its queen and it would do so until it had finally died.

It wasn't the only one. Swarms of its brothers and sisters were present in the sleepy mountain community and in the end, Willamette, Colorado would never be the same.

XXXXX

**Author's Note: **And so concludes the first chapter of my rebooted version of "Dead Rising: Case Greene."

As of right now that fic is discontinued and ALL reviews are to be forwarded here! The original will remain posted until I have caught up with it.

Aside from the ending I didn't make too many other changes aside from grammatical ones. I plan on doing what I can to make this better than the original. I'm still wanting to add original touches, but when and where I don't know for sure. Just hoping it is better than the original.

They never came out with an "Off the Record" version based upon the original so I'm taking it upon myself to do so.

Once again the title's chapter is an opposite word play on the Killswitch Engage song "The End of Heartache."

Well I hope you all enjoyed so until then please read and review! This is Metal Harbinger saying SPREAD THE SICKNESS, ONE MIND AT A TIME! \m/


	2. And Hell Followed With Him

Chapter 2: And Hell Followed With Him

For 8-year old Katey Greene, stepping into the Wonderland Plaza was like stepping into Heaven.

Her mouth fell open in silent awe as she took in the indoor amusement park before her: the Space Rider zooming through the air above her, the giant inflatable rabbits swaying back and forth, the toy houses filled with all sorts of children her age running around...it was all absolutely breathtaking to her.

"Daddy, can I go on the Space Rider before Bebop comes on?" she cried out excitedly in spite of the long line before it.

Chuck looked down to his digital watch to see that it was 1:25 in the afternoon. "Uh, I think that clown should be coming on at any minute now."

As if someone had heard him a voice called out over the loudspeakers.

_"Ladies and gentlemen, children of all ages! May I have your attention please?" _a bombastic voice barked, _"Bebop the Clown will be performing in exactly five minutes! Five minutes kiddies and grownups! Get yourselves over to the play land if you wish to get yourselves a front row seat for all the fun and excitement about to take place here in Wonderland Plaza!" _the unseen announcer said shouting out the plaza's name before the country western 'muzak' resumed.

"Hurry Daddy! He's gonna start any minute now!" Katey excitedly shouted grabbing her father by the wrist and dragging him towards the play land, a wide open space made up of a small 'village' of brightly-colored houses, a windmill, and the enlarged half of a soccer ball, directly beneath the Space Rider, "C'mon! We need to get a front row seat!" she exclaimed pulling him harder and with surprising strength for a girl of her age.

"Oh great," Chuck muttered to himself, feeling the icy ball of dread forming in the base of his stomach, the one he always got whenever he knew he was entering a tense situation.

_"Get a grip Chuck! You're doing this for Katey!" _the more logical part of his psyche called out to him, _"You're doing this for her-"_

His train of thought was abruptly derailed as he walked face first into a mountain of muscle.

Chuck grunted loudly and rubbed his now sore nose, halting himself before he could utter the first curse that came to mind when the clearing of a throat came from above him.

When his eyes opened he found himself staring into a wall of plaid outlined by dark brown. He soon took notice of the two beefy arms at the side and his gaze followed upward to a prominent jaw that looked to be carved from granite and then into the dark eyes of an older man who dwarfed him by a sizable margin. Aside from his phobia of clowns, Chuck Greene had always fashioned himself as someone who could hold his own in a fistfight if necessary, yet this guy could probably have him on his back counting the stars in the blink of an eye and he was likely old enough to be his father!

The nameless man stared down upon him for a few quiet, tense seconds before the corner of his lip curled upwards, "Gotta watch where you're going, son."

"Uh yeah, sorry about that," Chuck replied with a heavy sigh.

"You alright there, kid? You're looking about as nervous as a cat in a room full of pit bulls," the man chuckled, trying to alleviate the tension.

"I'm fine. Really," Chuck muttered looking over to his daughter.

The older man was about to speak when an auburn-haired girl around Katey's age ran up and grabbed him by the hand, "Hurry Grandpa! He'll be on any minute now!"

"Well, good day to you," the man spoke before walking away with his granddaughter.

"Over there Daddy!" Katey said pointing towards the giant soccer ball where the other children were congregating around, "C'mon! We need to get a front row seat!" she said, again displaying her surprising strength as she pulled him eagerly towards it and plopping down next to some chubby kid in the middle of finishing an ice pop.

Chuck felt a little embarrassed sitting in front of a gigantic soccer ball surrounded by a bunch of little kids, knowing he would stick out like a sore thumb to the other parents, but again he had to remind himself that he was doing this for his little girl.

He absentmindedly looked to his right and saw the tall older man also present in the play land reclining against one of the small houses, looking over to him with a smile and giving him an assuring nod. In spite of his imposing appearance, the nameless fellow carried a warm, almost fatherly aura about him that seemed to boost the confidence of those around him and it wasn't long before Chuck found himself returning the gesture.

_"What's the most some guy with a face covered in grease paint and some big stupid red nose can do to you?" _he asked himself, confidence renewed.

The overhead lights dimmed and a drum roll filled the air before the same painfully cheery announcer called out.

_"Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, wayfarers and Willamettans alike! It is that time, time to be entertained by that kooky jokester himself...please give a warm round of applause for Bebop the Clown!"_

A cheery carnival tune filled the air and a high-pitched voice soon followed, one that sounded like nails scratching against a chalkboard to the ex-motocross racer.

"Hey-Hey-Hey kiddies! It is I...Bebop the Clown!" the voice called out as a multi-colored blur came rolling into view and twirled like a tornado before coming to a halt directly in front of Chuck, causing him to gasp in sudden fright while the children began cheering wildly, his surge of confidence quickly deflated.

"Who's looking to have fun today?" the clown shouted to his audience as he stood upright, a grown man in a blue, yellow and green costume with different patterns that looked like it had been crudely sewn together, big floppy red shoes that left Chuck amazed he was still able to remain upright, and the same bright red afro and matching nose as seen on the flier, topped off by a tiny black top hat.

A slew of high-pitched voices shouting "I am!" and "Me! Me! Me!" nearly deafened the ex-motocross champ and he shut his eyes and clenched his jaw as a strident laughter came from the clown.

"Well then you've come to the right place!" Bebop shouted again before making a loud hiccuping noise, followed by a cluster of bubbles escaping his throat, causing all of the children and even some of the adults to laugh as Chuck looked down at the carpeted floor holding himself closely.

Belting out a loud 'Yee haw!' the glorified man-child again rolled backwards and performed a graceful back flip, landing atop a beach ball and balancing himself on it with the grace of a feline, rolling around the play area and pulling out some hunting knives to juggle, much to the astonishment of those in attendance, many pulling out their camera phones to snap pictures or record the spectacle taking place.

Eventually he made his way over to the nearby stairs and leaped high into the air, making his way over to the nearby cosmetics kiosk and swiping some of the lipstick props and proceeding to juggle three of them at once, making his way over to a little redheaded girl and giving her an opening to catch one of them. As she caught the prop, the clown quickly swiped another out of the air and gently pressed it against her face, leaving a large pink smudge that left her laughing and begging for more.

_"I wouldn't be surprised if that kid ends up having nightmares after this," _Chuck thought to himself with a loud sigh as the clown drew his head back and began blowing large balloons and sending them flying all over the plaza, drawing cheers and laughter from his audience before crafting a giraffe out of a blue balloon and presenting it to a little boy sitting on a bench with his mother and then presenting the young woman with a heart-shaped balloon.

"You think that's all kiddies? Well you haven't seen nothing yet!" Bebop called out as he rolled along the floor towards a large storage chest covered in goofy designs and reached inside, tossing out a supposedly one-thousand pound barbell, a pogo stick, a live chicken, and a few other miscellaneous items before pulling out two small blue-handled chainsaws, starting them up and then proceeding to juggle them effortlessly, a stunt which left kids gasping in awe and the adults, Chuck included, gripping their seats in suspense.

A collective gasp of horror rang out as the man tossed both chainsaws high into the air, but then their horror would turn to relief as he caught both of them and clapped at his astonishing feat as he took his bow.

"Daddy, this guy's amazing! Thank you so much for bringing me here!" Chuck heard Katey call out next to him and feeling her arms squeezing around him.

_"Well I guess things can't be too bad as long as Katey's enjoying herself," _he told himself as the clown rolled backwards and began pushing a large red and blue box wrapped up like a Christmas present towards the center of the floor.

XXXXX

"Hey c'mon, we're gonna be late!" Taylor Nightinggale called out waiting impatiently outside the mens' restroom for his best friend.

"Just a second man," Marvin Horner shouted back stumbling out of the stall and hastily making his way towards the nearest sink to wash his hands. That Stromboli he had eaten was already coming back to haunt him and he knew it was surely going to make them late for that double date they had set up with Rachel and her best friend Jolie. He knew without a shadow of a doubt Taylor would never let him hear the end of it if this were to mess up his chances with Rachel, if his best friend allowed him to make it out of this mall alive that is.

"You said that five minutes ago!" Taylor shouted back, waving a hand in front of him to dissipate the rancid odor emitted by his best friend's notoriously weak bowels.

_"I'm so gonna take a bat upside his head if he messes this up," _the young man thought to himself.

Rachel Decker was an attractive young woman he had harbored a crush on for the past two years, entranced by her the second she walked into his office building for the very first time, and only recently had he finally gathered the courage to ask her out on a date.

Her best friend Jolie Wu was in town visiting from California and she didn't want her to be lonely, so it was at her insistence it became a double date and he decided to bring along his best friend Marvin, hoping to help him get his mind off of things after his breakup with Sylvia.

_"Damn it! I should've asked Rufus to come along instead," _he thought while mentally kicking himself. He could only look down forlornly at the picture of Rachel on his phone, taken at last year's office holiday party where she is giving a goofy smile to the camera while wearing a pair of foam reindeer antlers and double fisting two whiskey shots..

"Seriously man, I'm coming this time!" Marvin shouted back while sticking his hands beneath the automatic hand dryer, "I'm com-"

A loud drawn out moan stopped the young man dead in his tracks.

"Marv, if you don't get your poky ass out here this instant, I am going to come in there and shove your head in the toilet the same way-" Taylor shouted just before he was cut off.

"Dude, shut up I hear something!" Marvin called back slowly approaching the stall where he swore the moans came from.

"Oh, what the hell is it now?" Taylor snapped finally making his way into the restroom, only to be halted by his friend raising a hand and shushing him.

"Shh! I think somebody's hurt in there," Marv hissed as he slowly crept towards the stall.

Sure enough, the young man spotted a pool of fresh blood slowly creeping out from underneath the door.

"Call 911!" he shouted back to his best friend and made his way over to the door, finding it slightly ajar and pulling it open.

"Don't worry mister, we're-" Marv was saying just before finding himself tackled to the floor, "What the hell?"

He looked up to find a man in soiled, tattered clothing on top of him bleeding from numerous wounds all over his body. Whoever he was he wasn't sick, no...he looked like he was one of the walking dead with his ashen skin, soulless white eyes and the large portion of his cheek that had been torn away, exposing the withering muscle beneath.

Taylor Nightinggale was in the process of reaching for his cell phone just as the mystery man burst from the stall and tackled his best friend to the floor, clamping his jaws down into the man's collarbone and tearing away a large hunk of flesh.

"Get away from him!" Taylor shouted dropping his phone and rushing over to grab the man by his shoulders, gripping him tightly and pulling him off, tossing him to the floor hard enough he could hear the man's skull cracking open.

It was too late. The damage had been done.

"Oh god, Marv!" he said kneeling down beside his fallen friend, "Speak to me damn it!" he said pressing his hands down hard against the man's fresh wounds, every inch of his exposed skin colored crimson by the blood gushing out like a geyser.

Marvin Horner tried to answer him, but all that could come out was a strained, throaty gurgle. The fear in his brown eyes was all his closest friend since childhood needed to tell him that he knew he wasn't going to make it.

"C'mon man, you've gotta pull through this," Taylor Nightinggale shouted to the dying man, his voice cracking and the tears streaming freely down his face. A more logical side to his mind told him that he knew it was hopeless and that his best friend was going to die right here and now, yet the more idealistic side told him that there could be hope, the hope that somebody else would come through, maybe possessing the medical training necessary to save his friend's life.

It had to be a possibility, couldn't it?

A low moan came from behind him, followed by the same kind of rancid odor which wafted off of his best friend's killer, only amplified by a hundred.

He turned around to see another sick-looking man come staggering into the bathroom, his red and black checkered shirt drenched in the blood of a fresh kill, followed by another gray-skinned man in a tattered black tank top and a green beanie resting atop his head, followed by a police officer, yes a police officer of all people, someone who should have been able to help him, someone who should have been there to arrest the bastard who murdered his best friend. Yet here the cop was, among those creepy people, shambling towards him with ravenous intentions.

"No...not like this...not like this..." Taylor muttered to himself backing away from the flood of sickly people piling into the bathroom, drooling over him as if he were a gigantic steak calling out to them.

"No...this is all some really fucked up nightmare," he grumbled, squeezing his eyes shut and hoping that in the next second he would be waking up in his bed, having experienced the kind of bad dream that would have left him bolting up and crying out for his parents like he had as a child.

And then he felt a sharp stinging sensation in his left calf and looked down to see his best friend in the entire world had somehow come back to life just seconds after having his throat torn into and was tearing into his warm flesh as if he were a midnight snack.

_"How can that be?" _he asked himself while struggling to free himself from his friend's grasp before feeling a cold hand upon his shoulder and looking up to see the plaid-shirted man pulling him closer towards his chipped yellow teeth and those soulless white eyes...

XXXXX

_"Don't scratch the bike. Don't touch the tools in any way shape or form. Don't let anybody else back here, not even my manager. Don't forget the ice for my sodas. Don't forget chump, I'm number one!"_

The litany of demands ran through Oscar Dingman's head as he stood guard near the trailer emblazoned with the smiling visage of motocross champion Leon Bell in all of his egotistical glory.

_"God I'd love to punch that guy in the face so bad," _the security guard told himself with a bitter shrug, _"I didn't go to the police academy just to babysit some self-important bastard's toys. I wonder what the hell is taking Dale and Julius so long?"_

Oscar sighed aloud before pushing the transmit button to his shoulder-mounted radio and speaking, "Hey Dale, Julius, either one of you there? You were supposed to be here ten minutes ago."

There was a brief pause before Julius Reinke replied, _"We're here Oscar. Sorry about leaving you hanging like that, but we found some guy passed out over here outside the North Loading Docks. Dale's working on him as we speak. We gotta wait 'til the ambulance gets here."_

"Terrific," he grumbled to himself again staring back to Leon Bell's ear-to-ear grin and feeling his skin crawl. Silently, he hoped the guy they found would be alright. He again pressed the transmit button and spoke, "Understood. I'll wait until you guys get here," he sighed, doing nothing to hide his disgust.

_"Yeah, I hear you. I'm not looking forward to babysit that punk either. Believe me, I'll be happy when he's gone," _Julius replied when he suddenly heard Dale Kerpan's voice calling out in the background.

_"Jules, he's waking up over here! GA-AAARRRRGGGHHHHH!"_

Oscar jumped as his colleague's blood-curdling shriek sounded from the other end, "Julius, what's going on over there? Julius? Julius! Answer me dammit!"

_"That guy's biting Dale!" _Julius called back before shouting to the assailant, _"Hey you, get off him!"_

"Oh shit," Oscar blurted out, his heart pounding in his chest. It would nearly leap out of his chest a second later as a gunshot rang out.

"Julius!" he shouted into the radio, "Julius, what the hell's going on over there?"

_"Some really fucked up looking people," _his co-worker shouted back, _"They're ripping Dale apart!"_

Oscar Dingman felt the color draining from his skin and his muscles tighten at the mention of those words, words he never thought he would ever have to hear.

_"Oh shit! There's more of them!" _Julius Reinke shouted before squeezing off a few gunshots, _"What the hell? I'm shooting them, but they're not going down! No! Get away you bastards!"_

"Julius, where are you?" Oscar shouted, sweat now cascading down from his forehead.

"Oscar, they're-" Julius Reinke shouted back before some feral snarling sounded followed by the guard's screams.

"Julius!" Oscar shouted into his radio and clicked it repeatedly, but was only met with dead silence. Feeling his heart racing to never before seen heights he switched his radio frequency in an effort to reach out to other guards and staff members.

"Is anybody there? Anybody?" he called out.

Yet again he was met with dead silence.

"What the hell?" he asked aloud, but what was hearing nothing. "How could the radios be out? Dammit!" he cursed bitterly, resisting the urge to throw his radio on the ground.

_"Calm down, Oscar. Just take a deep breath and remember what the academy taught you," _the security guard told himself, _"Assess the situation and take control of it."_

The goal was clear, he needed to get over to the North Loading Docks and find out what the hell was going on while getting assistance from anybody else he could.

_"Screw this punk. He's on his own," _Oscar said abandoning his post and bolting down the driveway towards the Leisure Park entrance.

As he expected the park was sparsely populated for this time of day and the only other inhabitants he noticed were some college-aged kids kicking around a soccer ball, some guy sitting in front of the clock tower with his sketchbook out and another guy lying on a bench near the North Plaza entrance. Thankfully they seemed engrossed in their activities and he was able to move about quickly without arousing any panic.

It was only a matter of seconds before he was approaching the steps leading to the plaza's entrance and was about to begin his ascent when a hollow, drawn out moan sounded from his right.

He looked over to see it was the guy passed out on the bench, a filthy vagrant who had suddenly sprung to life.

"I don't have time for you asshole, now beat it!" Oscar shouted as the man shot his bony fingers out toward him. Not in the mood for putting up with another drunkard he kicked the man backwards as hard as he could, yet the man was back on his feet less than a second later.

"What the hell?" he asked aloud as he got a better look at the man.

This guy wasn't drunk. No, he looked like he was almost dead!

The man's soiled, tattered clothes were caked in dried blood and his skin had taken on an almost ashen color. His eyes were plain white and half the skin had been torn away from his face.

"What the hell are you?" Oscar asked the man as he again lurched for him.

In his shock he had remained rooted to where he stood and the man caught him, clamping a mouth full of jagged yellow teeth down onto his forearm. It felt as if a dozen daggers had been stabbed into his arm at once and he was left screaming in pain.

"Gah! Get off of me you freak!" Oscar screamed as the sick man shook his head back and forth violently. It took a brief, painful struggle before the guard was finally able to punch the man off of him and send him falling backwards into the grass with a chunk of flesh stuck between his teeth.

"Wh-what's going on here?" he blurted out looking down to his mangled forearm and the wicked bite marks left behind. His blood was gushing out at an alarming pace and he clamped his other hand down over the wound in a paltry effort to stop the bleeding.

"Hey, are you alright?" he heard a voice calling out and he turned to see the other inhabitants had taken notice and were gathering at a safe distance to observe the macabre spectacle.

Oscar heard more moans coming from behind him and turned to see the filthy man rising back to his feet, a torrent of bloody chunks falling from his mouth. The same lifeless gaze remained in his eyes, fixated solely on him.

"Get outta here!" he screamed to the onlookers, "Run!"

He had already lost a lot of blood and was in dire need of treatment, yet all he could think of was getting over to Julius. Summoning his strength he braced himself against the railing and pulled himself up the stairs and nearly falling face first to the tile floor as he stepped inside.

The North Plaza was currently in the process of a massive remodeling project with only a handful of stores still open and he looked over to his immediate right where Crislip's Home Saloon stood and inside he saw the bright blue jacket of a mall janitor, a long-time employee he recognized as Gary Peake. Hearing the commotion he looked over and ran towards him when he noticed the blood.

"Whoa buddy, what happened out there?" the janitor asked rushing over to lend him a shoulder.

"No time to explain! I gotta help Julius!" the guard blurted out as he started feeling more and more lightheaded from the blood loss, "He's...in trouble..."

"Not so fast there, partner. We gotta get you some medical attention and fast," Gary replied trying to lead him in the opposite direction as a few onlookers stopped and stared nervously at the bleeding man before them.

"We have to-" Oscar was about to repeat just as the doors shook behind him and he turned to find the sick man throwing himself against the glass, leaving bloody smears as he pounded against it.

"What the hell?" Gary shouted as the frightened customers gasped behind him.

"What is wrong with that guy?" a bespectacled man called out.

"Oh my god! Don't let him get in here!" a woman shouted as her bags full of groceries fell to the floor.

"I don't know...but he looks..." another man was about to speak when the sounds of another struggle came from behind.

"Harold, what are you doing?" a woman shrieked as a bearded man pulled her close attempting to sink his teeth into her neck. Just like the man outside, his skin had an unhealthy grayish tint to it and his eyes lacked any presence of irises.

"Hey, get away from her!" another man shouted running over and grabbing the bearded man by the shoulders, tossing him to the floor and giving him a hard kick to the ribs. "Sick bastard!"

The force of the kick surely should have broken his ribs, yet the man called Harold appeared oblivious to the attack, letting out a guttural snarl and immediately reaching for the man's ankle, yet the man shook himself free and delivered another kick hard enough to snap his neck.

"That sick son of a bitch tried to kill her!" the woman's savior called out as she sobbed in the arms of another woman that had knelt down to console her.

It was all becoming too much of a distraction for Oscar Dingman. He needed to get over and help his friend Julius, but all these distractions were slowing him down.

"Please...I have to help...Julius..." the guard weakly pleaded as his legs turned to rubber and his head suddenly felt like it weighed a ton.

"No, we have to get you some help first," Gary replied looking down to see the sizable pool of blood that had formed beneath them.

"But...Julius...is in...trouble..." Oscar weakly slurred as the world around him started to spin and the heavy feeling in his head drifted away along with all other sense of weight as he collapsed to the floor. Through blurred vision he could make out the janitor shouting something in his face, but his ears could no longer hear.

It was only a matter of seconds before everything went dark.

XXXXXXXXXX

"Thank you and come again," Justin Tetherford spoke with forced enthusiasm as the customer departed. Once she was out of earshot he sighed heavily.

_"I fucking hate this place," _he thought to himself as he took in his surroundings.

He was 25 years old and had graduated from college with a Bachelor's degree in business administration, yet here he was stuck in some dead end cashier job at Seon's Food &amp; Stuff.

The pay sucked, his co-workers barely ever did their jobs and his boss was a psychopath. He had held some shitty jobs in the past, but this place took the cake.

He looked over to his left to see some younger employees slacking off as they did best (whereas if Justin did that he would have been subjected to another one of Steven Chapman's infamous rampages that would have left him temporarily deaf for an hour) and then over to his right where he noticed the alcoholic owner of the Huntin' Shack gun shop making his daily round through the wine section, always a guarantee his boss would make a pretty penny.

"Nothing new," he muttered as he heard footsteps and turned to find a familiar face coming down his aisle and briefly his spirits were lifted.

"Justin, hey man what's up?" Roland Nichol asked placing a few cans and a jug of milk on the moving counter.

"Not much. Just another day in the shithole," Justin replied as he began running the man's groceries through the scanner, making sure he lowered his tone with the last word in case his manager was creeping nearby.

"Heh, you're not the only one feeling shitty," Roland replied showing off the bandage on his neck, "I was hearing getting something for this. Some big hornet stung me this morning and it's been hurting like a bitch. Hope this stuff they gave me works."

"Yikes, get well soon man. Must been a huge damn hornet," Justin replied as he was bagging the last of his friend's groceries.

"It was," Roland replied picking up his bags, "Say, I'm having some of the guys over on Saturday to watch the game. Think you'd like to come over? Get your mind off this place?"

"You know I'm down for anything that takes my mind off this place," Justin shrugged, "Give me a call when you got everything you need. Bring some of those buffalo chicken wings too. Damn those were good."

"I will man. See you then," Roland replied making his way for the exit.

As soon as his friend was gone he heard another object being set down on his counter and turned to find it was a bottle of wine. When he looked up at the next customer his mood rose through the roof.

"Fancy I'd run into you here, tiger," the blonde woman grinned at him.

"Sarah! Boy, am I glad to see you. Suddenly my day isn't so crappy any more," Justin replied with a wide grin.

Sarah Stayer replied with a seductive wink, "What makes you think I could go an entire week without seeing my favorite cashier?" she playfully purred. She knew he wasn't comfortable with telling other people what he did for a living, a 'high school kid's job' as he called it, yet he didn't show any errant hostility when it came from her. He just took it with a grin.

She then looked over his shoulder at the teenage employees slacking off and then back to Justin, whose disgust she was able to sense and leaned closer to him.

"You should take a break," she whispered holding up the wine bottle for emphasis.

Justin was almost taken aback by her words and gulped loudly before darting his head back and forth. "Are you serious?"

Sarah didn't speak and reached over, taking his hand and rubbing it suggestively while looking deep into his eyes. "Do I seem like I'm kidding around? Besides, you've told me how you work with a bunch of slackers. Why not make them do their jobs for once? Huh?"

Justin could feel his hormones taking control and he again looked back to his irresponsible co-workers, remembering all the times they had shafted him in the past. Now Chapman could see them for the slackers they really were when he wasn't there to cover them.

"Why not?" he smirked. "Come on, I know a shortcut to the maintenance tunnels."

"Oh you bad boy, you. I like it," she purred.

Justin made sure the coast was clear before looking back to her with another smirk, "Oh you know it."

Business was slow with the nearest customer heard yammering away on their cell phone a few aisles over and the other attendants were busy doing other things, so he quickly led her over to the double doors that would have taken them into the back hall and from there the door leading to the maintenance tunnels.

It was only a matter of moments before the couple found their way into a shady spot where they were confident they would be alone. Sarah pulled the cork off the wine bottle and took a long chug before offering it to Justin, who followed suit.

"Now, where were we?" she asked pulling him close and proceeding to kiss him passionately. It had been well over a week since they had last engaged in sex and there was all sorts of pent up energy they were needing to release.

_"At least there is still one good thing left in this godforsaken shithole," _Justin thought to himself as he pulled Sarah closer and their kisses became more forceful. _"Justin, your life isn't a total drag."_

Before he could reach around to lift Sarah's skirt, they were both startled by the electronic squawking of a nearby car alarm.

"What the hell?" Justin blurted out, royally pissed off at the sudden intrusion and at the same time becoming paranoid, hoping someone hadn't caught on to his spur of the moment tryst.

"Someone's here," Sarah said rushing over and peering around the nearby corner, "Oh my god! Someone's hurt!"

Justin ran over to her and looked into a small parking area where a lone man had stumbled over a parked white sedan, setting off its alarm. Even under the dim lighting they could still make out the blood covering the man and they watched as he vomited out a dark substance before falling over.

"We have to help him," Sarah said running over to check on the man, only to let out an ear-piercing shriek.

"Sarah, what's wrong?" Justin demanded running over and gasping in shock at the large pool of blood behind the sedan and more importantly, the faceless woman lying in the middle of it.

"Justin!" Sarah blurted out clinging onto his arm.

Without a word he took her by the hand and led her in the opposite direction down a dimly-lit tunnel. He had no idea where he would take her, but it would be somewhere far away from here. By now they were too far away from the tunnel entrance to the grocery store and the closest exit was to the food court. It was better than nothing and he jerked his girlfriend in that direction.

"Over here!" he shouted to her as they rounded the corner, only to find themselves standing face to face with a sea of inhumanity.

"Justin!" Sarah screamed as the once docile group of people clogging their would-be path to salvation suddenly sprang to life. Even in their dimly-lit surroundings she was able to make out the blood covering each and every one of them, and even how some of them were still up and moving around despite missing limbs and even one guy who had been split in half, yet his upper torso still crawled after them.

The young man stood quietly until the horde was within arms length before the rancid breath of a tall man missing an arm snapped him out of his trance and he again squeezed Sarah's hand.

"Come on, we have to go!" Justin shouted turning on his heel and preparing to run away, only to step on a wet strand of human intestine and slip, hitting the bloodstained pavement with a hard thud that left his vision spinning and before he could react the throng was on top of him.

"Justin!" Sarah repeated, but her boyfriend had vanished beneath the mass of sickness and all she could hear was the sounds of flesh being ripped from bone and meat being minced. It had only taken mere moments before the 'people' had devoured their meal whole and were now focusing their attention upon her.

"No...no dammit no!" Sarah Stayer whimpered as the sickly people shambled towards her with their arms outstretched.

She was struggling to stay on her feet as they made their shaky strides toward her, their stench alone threatening to overpower her. There had to be some way out of this. She needed to think and fast.

As if someone had heard her prayer, she looked over to her right and found a parked delivery truck with its driver's side door hanging open. It was a start and she ran over to it, slamming the door behind her and finding keys in the ignition. She quickly flipped the ignition, only to me met with the thumping of tires that had been slashed.

She wanted to scream out, but all that escaped was a string of bitter sobs, drowning out the groans of those people as they surrounded the truck and began rocking it violently, the glass beginning to crack under their weight.

XXXXXXXXXX

"Now what could your pal Bebop have brought you today?" the clown laughed aloud, placing his ear against the large gift box acting as if he were trying to listen for what was inside, wanting to build up the anticipation and leave the children clamoring for him to open it, "What could it be? Just what could it be?"

"Do I even want to know?" Chuck Greene muttered to himself shaking his head and rubbing at his left temple as the feeling of dread crept back into his stomach, yet another surprise that was probably going to leave him on the verge of either shitting his pants or having a massive coronary.

"Just what's it going to be?" Bebop repeated to the crowd before again looking towards the giant box, "Maybe we need to have ourselves a little countdown," he said before knocking on its side, "On the count of three, say it with me...One!"

The children and a few of the adults cried out in unison.

"Two!"

Chuck's nerves tensed and he could feel his heart racing.

"Three!"

A loud explosion rang out and the giant box collapsed from all sides, revealing a diminutive blue-haired figure with a 'hat' that looked like a melted ice cream cone, a blue top, purple baggy pants with matching floppy shoes and a pair of stilts that made the man more than seven feet tall.

"Well lookee here kiddies! It's my very own baby brother Stilts the Clown here to join in on all the fun!" Bebop the Clown triumphantly proclaimed.

"Oh great...two of them..." Chuck sighed as the smaller man began tossing ice cream bars to the cheering children.

"Ice cream! Come on out everyone! Get your ice cream!" Stilts the Clown shouted, 'accidentally' bonking his older brother in the back of the head with a large cone that resulted in a bell ringing sound effect that left the children laughing and his redheaded brother pretending to get mad.

The painted brothers then pulled out squirt guns and began spraying each other, catching several of their youthful spectators in the crossfire before Stilts pulled out a banana cream pie and tossed it at his brother, who ducked beneath the projectile sending it splattering into the face of a dark-haired mall employee.

"Oopsy daisy!" Bebop gasped aloud placing a gloved hand over his opened mouth, "Mr. Greg was just in the wrong place at the wrong time kiddies. Here let me help you with that," the clown said reaching into his pocket to pull out a white handkerchief, which was then followed by a red one tied to the end, then a blue one, then a yellow, and a green and an orange, all shades of the rainbow tied together before he finally reached the end and handed the long line of cloth to the mall worker to wipe his face off.

"And now kiddies, Stilts and I are going to need a volunteer for our next trick," Bebop called out, which had the children jumping up and down with their hands extended wanting to be the aforementioned volunteer.

Bebop's painted grin quickly turned downward into a frown as he stared at the children, "Aw, I'm sorry but we're going to need a bigger person for this next trick...someone like YOU!" he called out.

All eyes were drawn towards Chuck and he looked up to notice the clown was pointing directly at him.

The color drained from his face and he could only sit in stunned silence until he felt Katey tugging away at his sleeve.

"Daddy, he wants you!" Katey said eagerly pushing him forth.

"No, sorry I can't do it," Chuck protested, only to be met by the typical 'sad puppy dog' expression from his daughter and a bunch of the little kids starting to boo him over his refusal.

"C'mon Daddy, you can do it!" she said trying to pull him along by the arm.

"Aww c'mon Gramps! You can't be that scared of a little fun now, can you?" Bebop playfully taunted, a motion Stilts seconded with a honking horn, a bit too close to Chuck's left ear to leave it ringing afterward.

The children were goading him on and after one final forceful push from Katey the ex-motocross champion was on his feet and standing alongside the two clowns to the applause of everybody in attendance.

"Hooray! He's decided not to be a Debbie Downer! Let's give our new friend here a warm round of applause!" Bebop called out and Stilts again tooted his horn happily as the children cheered him on.

All suddenly fell silent as another drum roll filled the air and Chuck could once again feel his stomach tighten. However, when the chainsaws began revving behind him he could nearly feel it trying to force its way out through his rectum.

"Alright boys and girls, now it's time for the grand finale!" Bebop managed to shout over the cacophony of spinning blades, "Stilts, please be so kind as to lead our adoring public in the countdown!"

_"Countdown to extinction," _Chuck told himself as his eyes clenched shut.

"One!"

The revving of the twin chainsaws seemed to amplify in volume, the only thing the ex-motocross champion could hear.

"Two!"

_"Oh god...poor Katey's going to be an orphan!"_

"Three!"

A blood-curdling shriek filled the air, drowning out the whirr of both chainsaws.

Chuck shot his eyes open to find a woman pinned to the ground, struggling with some sick-looking man before having her throat torn out.

More screams followed and he looked towards the upper mezzanine to find patrons being attacked by more of those sick-looking people.

"Daddy!"

Chuck's attention was brought back towards his little girl, one of those 'people' having made their way into the enclosure and making a play for the frightened children. It was then he got a good look at one of the perpetrators.

It was a lanky man who had been in his early 30's with his once stringy black hair now falling out in large clumps to expose his rotting face underneath, most of the right side torn away while his eyeball hung by a thread. The remaining patches were a sickly gray color that made him look like he had already been buried for many years.

Right now, the mystery man had his sights set on Katey Greene and that was something her doting father would not stand for.

Chuck looked around desperately for something he could use to take the man out, yet in a play area aimed at entertaining small children this would be the absolute last place he could expect to find a shotgun, an assault rifle, anything that goes 'boom,' or even some kind of bladed object he could use to take the man's head off.

Then his foot brushed against something and he looked down to see a soccer ball rolling around aimlessly. With no other alternative it was time for him to remember those skills which had helped his team win their regional championship back in junior high. With the little time he had he lined up his shot, drawing his leg back and kicking the ball as hard as he could, sending it flying into the sickly man's face and sending him falling flat on his back.

"Katey!" he cried running over and scooping the little girl into his arms.

"Daddy, I'm scared!" the child sobbed squeezing him tightly.

Chuck took a deep breath and kissed her on her forehead.

"Don't worry sweetheart. I'm here and I'm not going to let anything happen to you," he told her trying to keep his tone as soothing as possible in spite of all the carnage occurring around them. Truth be told, this was the most frightened he had ever been in his entire life and it took every ounce of his being to hide the quiver wanting to creep its way into his voice. In the end he succeeded and he forced himself to look up.

More of those gray-skinned people piled in at an alarming rate and were tearing into any person unfortunate enough to cross their path. He looked down to see several children had fallen to those freaks, the heartless bastards tearing into them like a five star gourmet.

It was enough to make Chuck sick to his stomach, yet he knew he had to maintain his composure if he wanted to get both himself and his daughter out of this mess alive.

_"C'mon Chuck, think damn it!" _he told himself looking around for any means of escape.

To his left he spotted a small stairwell leading out of the play area, but his hopes were soon dashed as a woman attempted to flee, tripping and breaking her leg before she was dog piled and torn into by a group of ravenous cannibals.

Chuck cursed silently to himself before he was again cut off by Katey's frightened screams, "Daddy please, I'm scared!"

_"There's gotta be a Plan B somewhere, but where is it?" _he asked himself frantically looking around until he spotted another entrance to his right that appeared relatively clear of any threats and a surefire way out of the enclosed death trap the play area was turning into.

"Katey, I need you to listen to me. I'm going to get us out of here, but I want you to look at me and only at me," he said looking down to his daughter, "Focus only on me."

With those words he made a mad dash for the stairwell and quickly made his ascension to higher ground, yet found himself surrounded by dead bodies and large pools of blood he knew would make his escape more hazardous.

"Quick! Run to safety!" a security guard shouted to the former motocross racer before raising his gun and firing everything he had into an oncoming horde before they too would overwhelm him and make him their next meal. Not much further away another man had gotten his hands on a baseball bat and was attempting to fight off some of those people before he was tackled from behind and had the back of his neck torn into. Elsewhere a burly man attempted to protect a young woman from two of those monsters, yet found both his arms savagely torn into for his efforts while the woman would run away and disappear into another rotting mass.

They were horrifying sights, yet they made Chuck wonder to himself.

_"Who are these people? What is wrong with them? Where did they come from? When did this start? Why is this happening? How did it spread so fast?"_

Chuck would be snapped from his train of thought as more of those sick people began taking notice of him and his daughter. He had to get her out of there fast.

He jolted to the left to avoid an overweight man lunging at them and then spun his body to avoid a swipe from some guy in a blooded Hawaiian shirt who somehow managed to hold onto a hunting knife. The evasive maneuver left him in a tight squeeze between a cosmetics kiosk and a small group that had been feasting on an unfortunate soul, only to spring to life as they heard the ex-motocross champion sprinting past.

"Not today!" Chuck shouted to the horde, tightening his grip on his beloved daughter as he ducked low and plowed his way through the mass of rotting flesh, knocking down several of his attackers like bowling pins. He skidded to a sudden halt to avoid a woman who lunged in front of him, only to eat a mouthful of tile for her troubles, and then bringing up his foot to kick away another woman whose intestines had been dangling from a deep rend in her abdomen.

Eventually he found himself approaching a set of double doors leading out, to the _'Food Court' _to be exact.

_"My only chance," _he told himself as he stole another peek around to see more of those 'people' pouring out of the woodwork from all angles.

Making another mad dash he barely managed to avoid another person who had been pushing around a dolly with a gas tank chained to it and then threw himself against the glass surface back first, ignoring the fresh waves of pain as his lower spinal column had connected with the metal push bar. He had a daughter to protect and he couldn't afford to let some small bruise slow him down.

The food court was another wide open space with a Wild Western motif, further emphasized by the cheery cartoon character who greeted patrons with a six-shooter in one hand and a mug full of beer in the other. There was no time to stop and admire the scenery as more of those 'people' were in there and they took notice of their new arrivals and began shuffling in their direction with arms outstretched.

To his left was an entrance to Leisure Park, yet he looked out to see more innocent people being slaughtered left and right by those 'things,' and ahead of him was another set of doors leading to the _'Al Fresca Plaza.'_

Again Chuck ran towards the doors and slammed into them back first, knocking a sick person out of the way as he stumbled through and found himself knee deep in more carnage.

He immediately found himself near a large fountain where a young man was in the middle of being pulled from his bicycle and torn into whereas another man in a blue track suit could be seen trying to fight off some of those strange people outside of the Flexin' gym armed with only a barbell, trying in vain to protect some short cowardly bald guy in a forest green jacket, the stocky man fleeing in the opposite direction as his savior was tackled to the cobblestone tarmac and swallowed up by a decaying throng.

The boom of a shotgun blast suddenly filled the air, followed by the panicked screams of two women.

There were other survivors nearby, but he had to wonder if they would be on his side. Hugging his back to a nearby wall he inched towards the corner and looked around to see some man in a red and black tartan shirt armed with a shotgun taking down a pack of those people who had been menacing two women.

"Quick, get over here!" called out a bespectacled mall employee waving the two women forth.

"Hey, there's two more people over there! Quick, over here!" the shotgun-toting man called out waving them forth, just as a man in a blue jacket and black beanie emerged from behind him armed with a lead pipe.

Chuck said nothing and could only hope for the best as he ran towards the survivors, only to again find himself nearly knocked from his feet as another one of those gray-skinned creeps emerged from McHandy's Hardware. Thankfully the pipe-wielding survivor was there to cover him and delivered a home run that splattered the monster's brains all over the nearest window.

With the threat out of the way Chuck bolted inside and safely lowered Katey to her feet before dropping to his knees and taking time to catch his breath.

"Damn it..." he spat struggling not to fall onto his stomach. He was about to utter another string of curses until he remembered his daughter was standing next to him.

"Is this everybody?" he heard another man's voice call out, "Lower the gate!"

Chuck rolled over onto his bottom and watched quietly as the gate lowered, more of those sick people still approaching and clawing away at the glass, wanting to get in and sink their chipped teeth into all the fresh meat inside. The gut wrenching sight could only leave him sitting back and asking himself the same questions as he did earlier.

_"Who are these people? What is wrong with them? Where did they come from? When did this start? Why is this happening? How did it spread so fast?"_

**Author's Note: **I apologize for the delay, but once again I found myself sidetracked by other creative ideas and now that I've gotten them out of the way I was able to finally get this done. I'm hopeful that this will be more well thought out than my original and that I can keep it going longer. As always read and review!

This is Metal Harbinger saying SPREAD THE SICKNESS, ONE MIND AT A TIME! \m/


	3. Spilling the Blood of the Innocent

Chapter 3: Spilling the Blood of the Innocent

"Hey mister, you alright?" a voice called from above.

Chuck looked up to see it was the same bespectacled mall employee who had been at the door, along with a younger man in a matching dark green t-shirt and shorts at his side.

"Yeah, I'm...I'm fine," he replied while feeling two pairs of hands gripping him from under his arms and helping him back to his feet, "I'm fine, thanks."

"Daddy! What's happening here?" the voice of his beloved Katey called out.

Chuck looked down into her crystal blue eyes and could see the fear and confusion plain as day. He looked back to the gated entrance to see those weird people still out there clawing away at the glass, their glossed over eyes void of any traces of humanity.

"I don't know sweetie," he replied shaking his head sadly.

"But I'm scared," Katey muttered.

Chuck got down onto a knee and pulled his daughter into a tight hug. He wanted to tell her so badly that this was all just one huge nightmare and that things were going to be alright.

But he would have been lying.

Things were not alright. Things were messed up far beyond comprehension and again he was left asking himself what was responsible for making a bunch of people suddenly go crazy.

"I'm not going to let anything happen to you. I promise," he whispered into her ear before giving her a kiss on the forehead and rising back to his feet.

"Hey, you mind making yourselves useful?" called an older man in a sweat-stained white dress shirt, "Hey! Bring that over here!" he called to the green-clad man motioning towards a nearby wooden bench as he reached for a propane tank, only to bump into a visibly confused older woman, "Quit screwin' around!" he rudely snapped.

Chuck took his daughter by the hand and took in his surroundings finding himself in the mall's entrance plaza, a wide open corridor filled mostly with clothing stores and a few other specialty outlets. Most of the space at the front was dominated by a giant clock with a large cartoon bumblebee atop it, something he found a bit childish for an establishment aimed mostly at grownups.

More and more of those sick people were piling against the front doors as the three men worked at a feverish pace to erect a patchwork barricade made from wooden benches, potted plants, discarded 2x4's, and anything else they could get their hands on.

In addition to the three men and the disturbed old lady, there were the two men who had provided cover as he came in from the Al Fresca Plaza, both of them talking about some cowardly friend they were separated from, the two women who entered ahead of him and Katey, the blonde trying to comfort her distraught friend, an arguing middle-aged couple near the lowered gate, and lastly a young man in a yellow t-shirt pacing back and forth with a wooden baseball bat in hand, trying to convince himself he was not afraid of the 'zombies' as he called them.

No wait – there was one more person present.

Reclining against a support pillar was a young woman who had to be in her early to mid-20's with long auburn hair worn in a ponytail and dressed in a green jacket with multiple pockets and a pair of blue jeans. A small travel pack was strapped to her side and when she turned her head he noticed a Bluetooth unit in her right ear. She looked to be in deep thought and when she looked towards Chuck it was then he finally took notice of her emerald eyes.

"Hey! This is no time to ogle pretty girls, son!" a voice called out and Chuck turned to find the older man from the barricade walking towards him, the sweat visibly cascading from his balding head like a waterfall, "You lookin' to get yourself eaten alive by zombies?!"

Chuck stared towards the man incredulously and took the time to gather his words before replying, "What? Did you just say 'zombies?'"

"Take a look out there!" the man said pointing towards the doors, "If those ain't zombies, what would you call 'em? There's been more and more of 'em since the past hour. Now they're all that's out there."

"Zombies," he heard Katey whispering to herself before the man chuckled aloud.

"Eh look on the bright side," he said nudging Chuck, "Zombies are stupid and slow. We should be safe in here."

Again Chuck stared uneasily towards the man wondering if he had truly lost it.

_"Zombies don't exist," _he told himself, _"Only in those trashy late night horror flicks you used to sneak down and watch with your brother when Mom and Dad were sleeping."_

"You hear that ladies and gentlemen? Zombies do exist and have converged upon Willamette, Colorado!" a woman's voice called out from above.

Chuck turned to find an attractive Asian-American woman descending the staircase behind him with a hand-held camera in hand, followed closely by a short, balding African-American mall employee reaching after her.

"Ma'am, I really don't think you should be going down there!" the man called out in a raspy voice.

"Nonsense! The people have to know the truth!" the woman shot back focusing her camera towards the front entrance and zooming in on the zombies, "Watch closely people. Zombies are out there," she spoke to the audience she believed would view the footage.

"And who the hell are you?" Chuck snapped as the woman got close to him.

"Do not be alarmed. Not all hope is lost as evidenced by the iron will of a select few survivors," the woman said zooming her camera's lens in on the former motocross champion.

"Lady, if you don't tell me what the hell is going on here then I honestly doubt your scoop will be seeing the light of day!" Chuck said lunging for the camera, only for the woman to leap backwards and nearly knock over the janitor behind her.

"Rebecca Chang, Channel 6 Action News," the woman introduced herself, "You are live at ground zero of the zombie apocalypse."

"Okay seriously, what's with all this 'zombie' bullshit? Zombies only exist in the movies!" Chuck snapped clutching at his throbbing temples.

"Oh really? Then how do you explain those 'things' out there?" the aggressive reporter asked cocking an eyebrow.

"Something is afoot and I _must_ document this at once!" she declared switching her camera back on.

"Well go do your documenting elsewhere," Chuck snapped.

"Your funeral," the woman muttered under her breath before making her way over to the two men and attempting to get an interview with them.

"About damn time. I swear that lady was gonna drive me up the wall if I had to spend another second around her. With everything that's goin' on here all she's worried about is getting some damned scoop," the elderly janitor sighed shaking his head before extending his hand, "Otis Washington."

"Chuck Greene," the former champ said returning the handshake and leaning closer to the older man, "Is it true what she's saying about those things being zombies?"

The janitor shook his head again, "I ain't got no clue, son. One second me an' Freddie over there are workin' the ducts an' next thing we know, everything's goin' to hell in a hand basket!"

Chuck felt a heavy tug on his jacket's sleeve and he looked down to see Katey burying her face into his side as the distraught older woman approached.

"Madonna!" the woman called out before rushing towards the trio, "Have you seen my baby? I can't leave without my precious little sweetie doggy. Oh, where is my Madonna? Where is she? Oh, oh!"

Chuck was getting a bad feeling about this and looked into his little girl's eyes one last time before turning his attention to the janitor, "Otis, I need you to take my daughter somewhere safe. She doesn't need to be seeing any of this."

"But Daddy-" Katey protested, only to be cut off by her father's hand clutching the back of her head. He took a knee so he was looking directly into her eyes.

"Katey, listen to me. You need to go with the nice man. I promise I will be up in a few minutes to get you. Can you do this for me?"

The little girl's eyes widened in disbelief as she looked back and forth between her father and the old man. It took some time before she began to slowly nod her head and again threw her arms around him.

"Okay, but please be safe," she weakly replied.

"I will be back for you. I promise," Chuck said rising back to his feet.

"Here," Otis said reaching into his pocket and pulling out a key, "Look, I'm not supposed to be doing this, but you seem like a good kid. This key will get you into the maintenance room over there," he said motioning towards a set of double doors next to the Sports High sporting goods store, "There should be some things over there to help you out if you ever need 'em."

"My pops always said I was the 'resourceful type.'" Chuck said accepting the key, "Thanks."

Chuck then looked down to Katey one last time and kissed her on top of her head, "I love you. Now go with Mr. Washington."

"Sure thing Daddy," Katey said taking Otis' hand.

"Come along little lady. I'm sure Greg's still got some of those candy bars left in his secret stash," Otis said leading her hand-in-hand up the stairs, eliciting and excited cheer from the 8-year old.

Chuck made his way over to the double doors and entered the maintenance room, a small space filled mostly with toolboxes and shelves full of miscellaneous junk. At the center was a workbench where a wooden baseball bat and a box full of nails waited for him. The resourceful biker wasted no time in getting to work, only wishing he had a radio on hand to blast some of the heavy metal he always liked listening to as he labored in his garage. Within seconds he was done and held his new contraption in hand.

"You're not exactly a howitzer, but you'll have to do for now," he said aloud taking a few practice swings with his newly-crafted spiked bat.

Chuck made his way back into the entrance plaza where he was again approached by the man in charge of the barricade.

"Alright then! Feel like makin' yourself useful? Take a look around the mall and bring anything we can use for the barricade back here. Andale! C'mon! Pronto!"

"Whatever you say," Chuck grumbled making his way past the pacing man and bickering couple, about to pick up a metal trashcan when about brewing confrontation caught his attention, one between the ever gutsy Rebecca and some odd old man in a burgundy blazer.

"You! Stop right there!" the old man shouted piking his cane through the bars, "Do you have any idea what you've done? Why did you summon me to this place? What are you planning?"

"I was hoping you would be so kind as to fill us in on what is really happening here," Rebecca replied zooming her camera's lens in on the old man's face, to which he responded by trying to knock it out of her hands with his cane.

"Madonna!"

"What the hell?" Chuck asked returning his attention to the front barricade.

"My Madonna is out there! Ohhhh!" the old lady called out rushing towards the front doors and trying to move a wooden bench out of the way.

"What are you thinking?" one of the men said rushing after her.

"Knock it off!" the other cried grabbing onto the woman.

"What the hell is that lady's problem?" Chuck asked clenching onto his spiked bat with white knuckled anticipation.

Both men were fighting valiantly to prevent the disturbed old woman from breaking through their barricade, yet her desire to save her beloved Madonna had given her some kind of strange psycho power that enabled her to push both of the younger, larger men off with the strength of a man twice her size.

"Wait, baby! I'm saving you baby. Wait for me sweetie! Madonna! Madonna!" she cried as she finally managed to work her way through and open one of the doors, only for the zombies to grab hold and pull her through.

"Oh shit! They're inside!" cried the balding self-appointed leader, but it was too late and within seconds the zombies were pouring through and overwhelming him along with the other two men near the barricade.

"What in the hell are you people doing?" a voice boomed from above and Chuck looked up to see a bald, dark-skinned man in a tan dress shirt and tie standing on the mezzanine.

"Run! Quick! Move! Get over here! Everyone! Move this way! Quick! To the stairs! Move!" he shouted waving everybody towards the nearby stairwell.

Unfortunately his voice was drowned out by the combined moans of the zombies filtering in and the deep booms of a shotgun as the plaid-shirted man and his pipe-wielding friend attempted to fight back along with that middle-aged man, all three finding themselves quickly overrun and torn apart. It wasn't long before the fidgety man, the injured wife and the depressed lady joined them, leaving only the blonde-haired lady in the white zip-up sweater, who feebly attempted to fight back against the approaching zombies by pushing them away, yet they would rise to their feet a second later to resume their hunt.

"Not today freak," Chuck said aloud and began swinging away with his spiked baseball bat, knocking over any zombie in his way as he approached the woman.

"For the fences!" he shouted as he drew his arms back and delivered a powerful swing to the head of a beefy biker, sending his head flying away from his shoulders and hitting the nearest wall with a sickly splatter. It wasn't long before he was finally reaching the woman, jabbing a female zombie in the torso before following up with a strike to the head, knocking her to the floor with several nails sticking out.

"Are you alright, miss?" Chuck said taking a protective position in front of the woman.

"Verlene," the woman replied, "Please get me out of here," she sobbed while looking over to where her best friend now lay dead.

"Stay behind me," Chuck instructed drawing his spiked bat backwards and going for another swing that dropped two zombies at once.

There was still a sizable horde in front of the former motocross racer, yet he wasn't going to let that deter him from getting back to his daughter. He brought his bat up and impaled a lanky man through the temple with one of the bat's nails before kicking his limp body backwards and swinging into the face of an obese man, pulling it away with large chunks of flesh embedded upon the nails.

"Follow me!" Chuck called to the woman but before he could advance any farther he felt a pair of bony hands clasping onto his shoulders and attempting to pull him backwards, only for the ex-champ to slam the undead menace backwards with all his body weight.

"Gonna have to work for your dinner, asshole!" he shouted before delivering a field goal kick to the head of a crawling adversary. He brought his bat up to another zombie in front of him and reduced its head to hamburger meat, just as a loud pop rang out from behind and he found himself splattered with skull fragments.

"Gotta watch your six there, cowboy!" Rebecca Chang called from behind, a smoking pistol in her hands.

Chuck grimaced at the gooey chunks covering his beloved racing jacket, but quickly shrugged off the following waves of nausea as he took Verlene by the hand and dragged her towards the stairwell. "C'mon!"

More pops sounded as Rebecca followed after the duo with Chuck stopping on occasion to pummel any zombies that had gotten too close for comfort. They were almost at the stairs when Verlene came to a sudden halt.

"Dana!" she cried.

"What the-" Chuck spoke just before freezing in place.

He looked over to see the same woman Verlene had been comforting suddenly rising back to her feet, just mere moments after having her throat and intestines torn out. Her skin had now taken on the same pallid hue as the other zombies and her eyes were devoid of their former color. She looked towards the three survivors and let out a monstrous roar.

"C'mon, we have to go!" Chuck said grabbing the young woman by the hand, yet she struggled against his mighty grip.

"No, I can't leave my friend behind!" Verlene protested.

"But she's not your friend anymore!" he retorted, "She's...something else..."

Still, Verlene fought against his grasp as he attempted to lead her up the stairs and with one final desperate tug managed to free herself, yet unfortunately she would lose her balance and go tumbling over the railing, landing at an awkward angle that snapped her spinal column. Not even a second passed before three zombies were converging upon her and turning her into dessert.

Rebecca gasped in horror while Chuck looked away and grimaced before taking a few deep breaths and calming himself, "C'mon," he said taking the reporter by the hand and leading her towards the security office with more of those zombies hot on their tail.

It wasn't long before they were throwing themselves through the door and then sprinting down a narrow hallway where they came to another door and again threw themselves through, nearly landing on their faces.

"Daddy!"

Chuck pushed himself to his knees to see his daughter running towards him, only to halt herself when she noticed him covered in blood.

"I came back like I promised," he replied, feeling slightly embarrassed when she noticed his blood-drenched spiked bat lying on the floor next to him.

The former motocross racer pushed himself back to his feet and then reached down to help Rebecca back to hers. They were now in some rather dull generator room where Otis and the other dark-skinned man were waiting for them, in addition to a buxom blonde in a gray sport coat and matching skirt with a pair of glasses that gave her the stereotypical 'naughty librarian' look.

"Where are the others?" the nameless man demanded.

"I'm afraid we're all that's left," Rebecca answered.

The man stared grimly ahead before nodding to Otis. The elder janitor nodded back and made sure the door behind them was shut before pulling out a blowtorch and proceeding to seal it off from the inside.

"What?" Chuck asked in confusion.

"As long as those things are in the mall we better not use this door," the man spoke before making his way over to an air duct and put his ear to it. When he was sure it was safe he opened a small hatch.

"What are you doing?" Rebecca asked.

"The air ducts. They'll get us back into the mall. Apparently, those things aren't smart enough to use the ducts so they won't be a factor," he replied.

"Wait a minute...you want to get back in there? What for?" Chuck demanded.

The man ignored him and fully opened the hatch, looking around before climbing inside.

"Hey! Hey!" Chuck called, but the man had disappeared and he was left throwing up his hands in defeat before turning back to the blonde woman, now reclining against the air duct and staring at Rebecca.

"Nice camera. Are you some kind of journalist?" she asked.

Rebecca gasped and stared back in shock. "You don't know who I am? I'm Rebecca Chang! Channel 6 Action News!"

"I get the feeling she doesn't watch too much TV," Chuck cut in.

"Could you show me what you've got so far?" the woman asked extending her hand.

Rebecca made her way over and flipped open the previewer to show everything she had recorded.

"You really seem to know what you're doing," the woman commented.

"This is going to be the scoop of a lifetime," the reporter replied, her dogged ambition irking Chuck to no end, viewing it as a trivial matter when compared to the loss of human life.

"Who are you guys anyway?" Chuck demanded walking up to the other woman.

The recording then came to the confrontation with the combative old man, the nameless woman suddenly surprised.

"And what are you?" he added.

"I found that guy near the entrance. An odd fellow if there ever was one. Did he do something?" Rebecca asked.

"Nope. Thanks for showing me though," the woman replied beginning to walk away from them.

"Hey, we're not done talking yet. Just who are you guys?" the biker demanded.

The woman stopped in the doorway leading to the adjoining monitor room and turned to face them, "I'm Jessie. The man you saw earlier is Brad. That's all I'm authorized to tell you," she replied before entering and taking a seat at the desk.

"Who the hell do these people think they are?" Chuck asked looking over to Rebecca.

"If you ask me, they have 'government' written all over them. For whom and what, I don't know exactly," the reporter replied, tapping a finger against her chin in thought.

Chuck was fed up with being kept in the dark and walked over to the monitor room where Jessie was seated at the desk watching the happenings on the monitors, the grainy black and white feeds displaying various scenes of carnage that would make anybody else squeamish, yet she watched over them as if she had seen this stuff plenty of times before, leaving him to wonder if she was more experienced in the field than her age seemed to indicate.

"Look, I am a citizen of the United States of America and if you know what the hell is going on here I damn sure have a right to know!" Chuck said standing protectively in front of his daughter.

"I can't answer your questions," Jessie replied sounding visibly agitated and diverting her attention to an overhead monitor where a young woman was being pulled out of her car and torn into by a small group of zombies.

"Something seriously messed up is happening here and I'm starting to think you might have an idea as to what it is. If you know something then we have a right to know! Is this some kind of screwed up terrorist attack we didn't know about? What? Spit it out!" Chuck said struggling to maintain his composure.

Jessie exhaled deeply before she spoke, "Even if we rounded up everyone responsible and arrested them, I've still got my hands full with everything else that's going on around here. I'm deeply sorry, but I wish I could give you more answers Mister..."

"Greene, Chuck Greene," the biker replied, not in the mood for formalities.

"Mr. Greene, we are doing everything we can in our power. Please stay out of the way and let us do our jobs," Jessie replied before returning her attention to the monitors.

It was a fruitless effort and Chuck sighed heavily as he looked back at Rebecca.

"So what now?" he asked while rubbing his throbbing temple, "Gracie Government over there isn't being very helpful."

"We find the truth ourselves," she replied, the determination plain as day in her dark eyes.

"Seriously? You're going back out there, _there_ with all those...zombies?" Chuck asked, forcing himself to spit out the last word.

"Well we're not going to get our answers standing around here, are we?" she asked motioning to their drab surroundings.

"Correction, _your_ answers," Chuck retorted, "I could honestly give two shits less about your 'scoop of the century,'" he said before looking over to Katey, his beloved daughter now back in the duct room socializing with Otis, "All I care about is protecting my daughter and getting us out of here in one piece."

The mention of getting out suddenly left him wondering how he would get out of there.

He wondered if the authorities had any awareness of what was occurring in the city. If so, they would likely have all entrances into the city blocked off. There had to be another means of escape and when he saw a wall-mounted telephone in the duct room an idea came to mind.

"What are you doing?" Rebecca asked.

"I'm calling an old friend of mine who owes me a favor. Real good guy. He's a private helicopter pilot and he should be able to get us out of here," Chuck said lifting the receiver and dialing the number.

He could hear the phone ringing on the other end, a welcome sign that the phone lines were still functioning, yet he couldn't help but grow more anxious with every ring, mentally screaming at his friend to pick up. It wouldn't be until the sixth ring when he would finally hear the phone picking up.

_"Ed DeLuca Enterprises, Ed speaking," _the hearty voice called out from the other end.

"Ed, it's me Chuck."

_"Well I'll be damned! If it ain't good ol' Chuck Greene! How ya' been ol' buddy? It's been a long damned time!" _he enthusiastically boomed.

"I'm not gonna lie. Right now things are pretty shitty. I'd tell you, but I don't think you'd believe me," the biker sighed pacing back and forth.

_"Heh, I was gonna say you sound like someone took a major shit in your punch bowl. What's going on?"_

"Look, I'm stranded in the Willamette Parkview Mall. Something seriously screwed up is going on and it's got people going crazy and killing each other left and right. I don't know what caused it, but there's a lot of people dead and the tally's growing by the second. I'm holed up in the security office with Katey and a few others, but it's not looking good. Remember how you told me that you owed me a favor? Well I'm cashing it in."

_"Well a promise is a promise. What do you need?"_

"I need you to get your old lady and get us out of here," Chuck spoke, the 'old lady' in question being Ed's personal helicopter.

The charter pilot sighed heavily before replying, _"She's in the shop right now. I know, I know yeah it's a bitch of a situation, but anything for you buddy. I'll need some time."_

"How much time are we talking?"

_"72 hours."_

Chuck found himself wanting to throw the phone against the wall as hard as he could, but yet he managed to calm himself and let out a strangled "Fine."

_"I know man. I'm sorry, but she's gotta get some parts replaced and I gotta make sure everything's in good working order after that or else I'm gonna crash before I can even take off! But I will be there. That's a promise. I'm getting on it right now! Just you wait and-"_

There was a loud squelch and then suddenly nothing.

"Ed? Ed, are you there? Ed!" Chuck shouted before hanging up the phone and then lifting the receiver again, but hearing no dial tone from the other end.

"Damn it! Well that's just great," the biker grumbled.

"What's wrong?" Rebecca inquired.

"It's gonna take him three days to get over here," Chuck grumbled.

"Plenty of time to get my story," Rebecca piped up without missing a beat, inviting awed looks from Chuck and Otis.

"Lady, are you insane? Do you have any idea of what is going on out there? There have got to be hundreds...no _thousands_ of those 'zombies' running around out there! Didn't you see what what they did to all of those people in the entrance plaza?" Chuck shouted, his daughter looking frightened at the sight of her father yelling, "And not only that the phone lines just got cut! There won't be a cavalry coming to get us. We're sitting ducks here!"

The plucky reporter placed her hands on her hips and stared nonchalantly towards the former motocross champion, "Do you really believe I am some damsel-in-distress not capable of fending for herself? Believe me, I've been through enough to tell you I'm perfectly capable."

She pulled out her pistol and cocked the hammer to emphasize her point, "You seem to forget I actually saved you from one of those zombies out there. You're welcome by the way."

The woman brushed past him and made her way to the opened hatch pulling herself through before Otis could protest.

"Yeah, well I honestly doubt this is unlike anything you've ever been through before!" Chuck shouted into the vent, his only answer being the echo of his own voice.

He shook his head and disgust and looked over to the old janitor, who sighed heavily before turning to him, "You ain't plannin' on goin' out there after her are you? I wouldn't do that if I were you."

"Looks like I don't have much choice," Chuck replied shrugging his shoulders.

Otis groaned bitterly, "You young folks never listen to me. Well if you're going to go at least take this," he said reaching into his pocket and producing a small black and yellow hand-held device, "It's a transceiver so we can stay in touch all throughout the mall. You'd better take this map too," he said pulling out a folded up piece of paper and handing it to him.

"Thanks," Chuck spoke before turning back to Katey and kneeling before her.

"I promise I will be back for you. Okay? You behave for the nice people. You hear me?" he said before kissing her on the forehead.

"I will Daddy. Please be safe!"

Chuck looked back to Otis one last time and nodded.

"Those things are all over the mall. Be careful out there," the janitor rasped before stepping aside.

"I will and thanks," Chuck replied before climbing into the ventilation duct.

XXXXX

**Author's Note: **And so concludes our latest installment of the "Case Greene" reboot where we got to see several familiar faces making their presence felt and me breaking the 4th wall with the heavy metal, a reference to that music playing in the background whenever they show Chuck crafting a combo weapon.

Well I think that's all I have to say for now so as always read and review. This is Metal Harbinger saying SPREAD THE SICKNESS, ONE MIND AT A TIME! \m/


	4. Grave New World

Chapter 4: Grave New World

_"Chuck, you've done some crazy shit in your life, but this has got to be taking the cake," _the voice inside his head told him as he pulled himself out of the cramped metal duct and back into the open, nearly bowled over by the stench of decomposing flesh amplified by a million.

"Damn it," he grunted aloud as it took some time before he could get adjusted to the rancid stench without wanting to vomit. Hearing the moans of the dead in the distance he approached the nearby chain-link fence and stared in disbelief.

Beyond the confines of the Willamette Parkview Mall it was nothing but a sea of inhumanity.

There had to be thousands of those zombies staggering around out there and they were still pouring in with every passing second, almost like they were magically appearing from out of thin air.

Not only that he could still hear the sounds of survivors struggling: the police sirens, the gunshots, the dying screams...

Chuck's foot brushed against something and he looked down to find a pair of binoculars. Out of morbid curiosity he picked them up and peered through them.

On the rooftop of the nearby C.W. Factory he watched as a lone woman attempted to hold off a small crowd of advancing zombies armed with a handgun, only to run out of ammo and find herself tackled and falling to the pavement below. It wasn't much farther away in the mall parking lot where a motorist was stranded atop his battered white sedan swinging away wildly at the surrounding zombies with a baseball bat. When he could hear the whir of helicopter blades above he stopped everything he was doing and began waving his arms wildly, the distraction enabling the zombies to grab and pull him to the pavement below.

"What the?" Chuck asked to nobody in particular as he looked up to see an unmarked helicopter flying overhead, followed by two more. Judging by the guns mounted on the sides he assumed they had to be military and wondered if they were in anyway connected to those two government workers back in the office. He watched as they made their rounds over the shopping center with no signs of slowing down. It looked more like they were just scouting the terrain rather than attempting a rescue mission, his suspicions seemingly confirmed as a low flying copter ignored a couple on the rooftop of the nearby Dark Bean coffee shop who had been shouting and waving their arms frantically in plain view of the airborne crew.

It was an unsettling sight that left him wondering what their motives were and furthermore, if they would be willing to let anybody in or out of the city limits. The thought left him swallowing hard and worrying for Ed's safety.

"Hello there!" a voice called from behind, causing Chuck to nearly jump out of his skin.

Whirling around on his heel with his spiked bat at the ready he turned to find a well-dressed fellow casually strolling towards him like he didn't have a care in the world. When he got a good look on his face it instantly dawned on him.

It was the same man from the gas station!

Chuck opened his mouth to speak, but was cut off before he could.

"You're not from around here are you?" the man asked in a thick Spanish accent.

"What's it to you?" Chuck asked narrowing his blue eyes at the mysterious man, already not liking the vibe he was getting from him.

The man walked past him and looked out towards the carnage before them, "Tell me, what have you seen thus far?"

_"Who the hell does this creep think he is?" _Chuck asked himself, deciding for now he would play along. "Well what is there to say? This place has turned into a goddamned shit hole!"

"I guess you could say, everyone's already dead?" the man asked turning to face him, an ominous smirk cracking his features.

Chuck stared at the man in utter disgust, wanting to bash his brains in right then and there.

The nameless Latin man looked back to him, a fire burning brightly in his dark eyes as his tone became even more sinister, "This my friend...is Hell!"

That did it right there. He had crossed the line.

"I don't know who the hell you think you are, you freak. You're off your fucking rocker and you are going down!" Chuck said advancing towards the man with his spiked bat drawn.

A loud ding sounded from his right and temporarily distracted the former motocross champion, giving the nameless Latin fellow time to reach for a small metallic object he would toss into the air. Less than a second later there was a bright flash and a deafening bang.

"What the hell gives?" Chuck blurted out, unable to hear his own voice over the shrill ringing in his ears. The blast left him blinded and waving his arms around wildly until he felt a hand gripping onto his shoulder.

"You're going down!" he shouted to his unseen assailant, delivering a haymaker he felt connecting with someone's cheek.

It was then his hearing slowly began coming back to him and he cold make out a frightened woman's voice yelling at him, "Please don't hurt my husband!"

The blinding light began to dissipate, yet everything was swirling like he was underwater. Through the blur he was able to make out a solid wall which he braced himself against and took some time to steady his rubbery legs. Shapes began taking form and he blinked his eyes rapidly to readjust to the world around him and it was then he was able to make out the older man in the pink shirt lying on the tarmac before him pawing around anxiously for his lost glasses and standing nearby with her hands clasped over her mouth was a bespectacled older woman in a bright green shirt.

"Please don't hurt me!" the downed man pleaded, "We came here to get away from those things!"

Chuck blinked his eyes repeatedly as his vision fully returned to him and the ringing had subsided, yet he struggled to maintain his balance. When he finally felt stable enough he would break the tense silence.

"I'm terribly sorry about that. I thought you were someone else," Chuck said offering his hand to the fallen man, who seemed initially hesitant to take it, "I meant it. I didn't mean to attack you like that. Some creep was here just a second ago and I tried to stop him!"

The man looked warily towards him for a few more seconds before finally accepting his hand and grabbing the golf club he had dropped before Chuck pulled him back to his feet. The woman then ran over and embraced him.

"I'm terribly sorry," Chuck repeated, "I'm not here to hurt anybody. My name's Chuck and I know a safe place not too far from here. You can follow me," Chuck said with a wave of his arm.

The couple eyed him cautiously before the man spoke up, "Well, uh alright then. I guess it's worth checking out," the man spoke up first, "I'm Jeff Meyer and this here is my wife Natalie. We would great appreciate your help."

"It would be my pleasure. Now c'mon," Chuck said jogging towards the elevated platform, stopping to help the couple up. The biker was first into the duct and waited until he was sure his companions were behind him and within seconds they were crawling through to the vent room.

"Thanks a lot for your help. I really owe you one...even if things got off on a rough start," Jeff said reaching out and shaking Chuck's hand. "Here, you might need this more than I will if you're gonna be going back out there," he said offering up his golf club, which the biker graciously accepted.

"I'm never going to the mall again as long as I live. I've had enough of this," Natalie whined before Jeff took her to the back.

"Here," Chuck heard Otis' raspy voice call out and he turned to find the janitor offering him an apple and a jug of coffee creamer, "You might be out there a while, son. This is all we've got, but it should hold you over until you can find something else to eat."

"Thanks, I appreciate it," Chuck said before making his way back into the vent.

Chuck was back outside within seconds and approached the elevator. Pushing the call button he waited until the same cheery _'ding'_ signaled its arrival and made his way inside. Standing towards the left side he rested the golf club against his shoulder, knowing he would need to be ready in case he encountered any more zombies or that creepy Latin guy again.

_"Unless he's some kind of ninja he couldn't have gotten far," _he told himself as the elevator chimed and the doors slid open.

He found himself in a large warehouse filled with shelves of boxes, barrels, building supplies and other miscellaneous goods for restocking the stores around the mall. Fortunately the room appeared to be empty and he began looking around for anything else he could use until he heard a ringing sound coming from his coat pocket and he pulled out the transceiver.

"Hello?"

_"Hey, it's Otis from back at the security room. Can you hear me Chuck?" _the old janitor called out.

"Loud and clear. What's up?"

_"Let me give you a rundown of the mall's layout so you know what you're doing. Right on the other side of that warehouse you'll find Paradise Plaza. There are lots of shops there...restaurants, sporting goods, books...you name it. It's a pretty big mall so you'll probably need to use the can now and then. Just check the map to find the restrooms when you need to," _Otis explained.

"Alright thanks. Keep me informed if anything else comes up," Chuck replied before pocketing the transceiver.

Chuck saw the corridor leading out to the Paradise Plaza and was about to advance farther along when he suddenly heard footsteps coming from behind him.

"Zombies, huh? I had a feeling more of you would show up," he said taking cover around the bend and raising his golf club, ready to hit an eagle off of a zombie's skull. He waited for the steps to draw closer and it was then he stepped into the open ready to swing, cut off by a woman's shriek.

It was that Jessie lady from the office and now she was falling flat on her ass.

"Ohh...oh god! It's you! Look, don't sneak up on me like that!" Chuck scolded reaching down to help the young woman back to her feet.

"Brad was attacked. I located him on the monitor...oh!" she spoke trying to stand, only to fall back to her knees.

"It's probably just a sprain," he said helping her back up and walking her over to the elevator.

"I've gotta help Brad..or he's done for," she protested.

"Alright fine. Give me your gun," Chuck motioned for her handgun, "Come on. I'm the reason you just got hurt. Let me help."

"No! I can't let a civilian do that. That's against regulations!" she protested.

"Yeah, well I don't think they had zombie-infested malls in mind when they wrote those regulations," Chuck shot back.

Jessie knew she had been boxed into a corner and sighed before tepidly handing him the gun, "Do you know how to use this?"

"Kind of," he said accepting the gun and testing its sights, "It should be as simple as point and shoot, shouldn't it?"

"I can tell you've played a few too many video games," she replied.

"Look, after I'm through helping you, you and I are going to have a nice little chat," Chuck said tucking the gun into his belt.

"If you can get that past Brad first," Jessie replied bracing herself against the wall and making her way back to the elevator.

Chuck ignored the comment and made his way towards the Paradise Plaza entrance and listened to the undead chorus of moans and feral snarls coming from the other side, some cheery music heard faintly in the background.

"Here we go again," he said to himself and he quietly opened the door and stepped out into the open.

"Damn it," Chuck muttered to himself while looking to his left and seeing more zombies who had abandoned their previous meals in pursuit of some fresh meat. He was surrounded from all directions, but as long as he had an ounce of breath in his body he was not out of the fight just yet.

He had to provide backup for Brad, find Rebecca, stop that creepy guy if he found him again, and rescue any more survivors he would happen across.

Aside from the monumental task of raising his daughter as a single father following his wife Pam's death, this had been the most responsibility ever placed upon his shoulders.

_"But if I don't do it then who will?" _Chuck asked himself as a zombie drew dangerously closer and he swung the club upwards into its jaw, shattering it upon impact.

The attack caught the attention of another zombie staggering around outside of the Contemporary Reading bookstore and Chuck drew his club backwards and with a cry of "Fore!" launched a golf ball that traveled through the undead denizen's right eye and out the back of its head.

More zombies took notice of Chuck and started lumbering towards him, including one still clutching onto a hunting knife who shot its arm out and managed to slice him across the chest, causing him to cry out in pain. With a shout of rage he slammed the club into its forehead, splitting its skull wide open. He began swinging his 9 iron and launching more balls at the zombies, hard enough to tear through a few more decaying craniums before running out of balls and finding himself back down to using his spiked bat, wanting to conserve his bullets for backing up Brad.

_"I gotta stop screwing around with these yahoos and get over to help Brad out," _Chuck told himself as he climbed onto an elevated island in the center of the corridor and ran along it, barely dodging the decaying hands reaching out for him. Before he could reach the end and attempt to jump to the next island the transceiver started ringing.

"Out of all times! This better be damn good Otis!" Chuck shouted aloud before pulverizing another zombie's head. When he was confident there was enough space he raised the transceiver, "Yeah?"

_"Chuck, you there? It's me Otis, the janitor," _the old man's voice called out, barely audible as more zombies closed in.

"You kind of caught me at a bad time. You'd better make it quick!" he called back, barely dodging a swipe from a tall zombie.

_"I've been watching the monitors here and I got some info you might want. There's some dark-haired guy wanderin' around in Paradise Plaza. He's carryin' a camera like that reporter lady friend of yours. I guess he must be some kind of journalist too. Takin' pictures at a time like this...he must be crazy," _Otis spoke.

It wasn't the kind of info he was looking for, but if there was another survivor out there then it wasn't a bad idea to have a few extra helping hands on board.

"Okay, where is he?" Chuck shouted as he was forced to cut through a shin-high moat to escape a large cluster of undead.

_"He's up in the Colombian Roastmasters cafe. You're headin' towards it right now," _Otis replied.

"I'm on it," Chuck called back shoving the transceiver back into his pocket and slamming his bat into the face of another zombie before going for a grand slam that sent three flying backwards. Unfortunately for him another zombie managed to get close enough and went for his throat.

"Get off!" he screamed before performing a back drop attack that slammed the zombie backwards. Another rotting menace practically running towards him he quickly shot his arms out and intercepted the would-be attacker.

"Hands off!" he screamed just as he lightly lifted the zombie off the ground and tore its arms off, showering his face and upper torso with congealed blood in the process.

"Damn it! I'm gonna need some new clothes!"

XXXXX

**Author's Note: **To make sure my readers are kept up to date I will be listing the survivors rescued and escorted back to the security office at the end of each chapter.

In this chapter we have:

**Jeff Meyer, 55**

**Natalie Meyer, 53**

Well that's everything for now so until then read and review! This is Metal Harbinger saying SPREAD THE SICKNESS, ONE MIND AT A TIME! \m/


	5. Say Cheese

Chapter 5: Say Cheese

It was only a few more steps before Chuck was walking up to the Colombian Roastmasters cafe yet as he drew nearer he hard the moans of a zombie followed by another man's voice.

"Ah yeah, that's it Kenny boy! Work with me here!" the voice called out casually followed by the snapping of a camera, "That's it! Just a little closer! ***CLICK* **Yeah, that's perfect!"

Chuck approached the cafe entrance and quickly his eyes widened in disbelief.

Standing before him was a dark-haired man in a black blazer and charcoal slacks with a camera in hand, snapping pictures of a zombie staggering towards him.

"C'mon Kent! Just a little closer!" he said to the zombie, who had once been a young man with spiked up auburn hair and a camera strapped to his back, "Oh yeah! You're giving me some good material here! Keep up the good work!" he said managing to keep a safe distance between himself and the undead photographer with every picture snapped. "You're gonna make me some big bucks here!" the man snapped while using one of the circular tables to keep 'Kent' at bay.

"Excuse me" Chuck called out.

The photographer did not immediately reply to him, instead still focusing on the zombie.

"Thank you Kent. You've been fantastic!" the man spoke, putting extra emphasis on 'fantastic' before driving his fist into the zombie's gut and tearing his intestines out with a mighty tug, much to Chuck's disgust. The man kicked his fresh kill backward and then looked down to his watch before walking over to the former motocross champion with an ear-to-ear grin.

"You're just in time, pal," the man said casually extending his blood-soaked hand, "The name's Frank West. We might as well get acquainted now because pretty soon the whole world's gonna know it when I get the ultimate scoop. You can say you knew me before I got big."

Chuck stared at the man's hand in disgust and backed away when he extended it further into his personal space.

_"Damn it Otis. What the hell did you just talk me into?" _he asked himself knowing he already did not like the vibe this man was giving off. _"No way in hell I'm telling him about the security office."_

"Uh never mind...I was just heading out of here," Chuck said backing away from the clearly insane photojournalist as a small group of zombies rounded the corner. Before he could take another step the man's crimson hand was gripping onto his jacket's sleeve.

"What's the rush? Stay and help me capture history here!" Frank said raising his camera and snapping a few pictures of the approaching horde.

"Buddy, if you haven't realized those are flesh-eating zombies!" Chuck said raising his spiked bat in anticipation of a forthcoming battle, "Are you insane?"

The photojournalist chuckled darkly, "Can't do that. Not when I'm sitting on a goldmine here."

_"Christ, this guy's worse than Rebecca!" _he told himself.

"Screw this shit," Chuck said charging towards the group and swinging his bat, sending one of the zombies flying backwards before leaping into the air and performing a jump kick that sent another into the nearby SporTrance sporting goods store and then another that sent a third monster flying into the nearby wall with a sick splat. He then ducked low and executed a foot sweep that took another walking corpse from its feet and finished it off with a curb stomp before pummeling the last two into hamburger meat.

"Yes!" Frank shouted enthusiastically pumping his fist into the air, "Those were some amazing moves you pulled off there and I got it all on tape! You really know your way around a zombie or two...or in this case six. Pal, you've gotta work for me. I'm serious. You could be my model!" he cried out before stopping and motioning towards a nonexistent marquee. "Think about it, your name being acknowledged as one of the great heroes of the 'Willamette Zombie Apocalypse,' covered of course by yours truly," he said pointing to himself with his thumb.

"Who the hell runs around taking pictures when there's people dying all over the place?" Chuck shouted angrily.

Frank simply laughed.

"My friend, being knee deep in death and destruction is like second nature to me. I've covered wars ya' know?"the photojournalist boasted before again extending his hand, "So whatta ya' say? You in? You help me and I help you."

This man had gone insane and it left Chuck wanting to knock his block off right then and there. Instead he shook his head.

"I don't have time for your sick games," he said turning on his heel and walking away.

Frank West narrowed his eyes at the ex-racer, insulted beyond belief.

_"Who does this guy think he is?"_

Chuck was almost at the stairs when he heard the cocking of a gun behind him.

"Say cheese!"

Chuck instinctively rolled out of the way, straight into the Lady About Town clothing store, just as the bullet whizzed past him.

_"You were right Chuck. This guy's just another psycho," _he told himself as another bullet impacted the wall just to the left of his head.

Frank entered the store with a look of sheer madness in his dark eyes, firing another bullet that struck the shelf which the racer had taken cover behind.

"You can't run and you can't hide!" the scorned photojournalist shouted leaping into view and delivering a roundhouse kick that caught his prey in the stomach, sending him flying backwards into a rack full of handbags.

Chuck felt the fresh wave of pain shooting up and down his spinal column but before he could atttempt to roll over he felt his legs being grabbed and next thing he knew he was in the air being spun around repeatedly, then there was the sense of weightlessness, followed by the shatter of glass as he went flying through a store's display window and then the sickening splatter as he collided with a wall of zombies.

"Ha! I knew watching 'Saturday Night Slam Masters' would pay off!" the photojournalist taunted, the victim falling to his giant swing. "Now for the drama of a man's last few seconds of life," he said readying his camera.

Chuck Greene was experiencing the worst physical pain ever felt in his life. None of the spills endured during his days on the motocross circuit could compare to what the insane photographer had just done to him and now he was finding himself swimming in the blood and gore of a fallen horde.

What was worse, there were more zombies still standing and they were closing in on him.

"Damn it," Chuck grunted pushing himself back to his hands and knees, struggling to maintain his balance in the sticky pools before grabbing onto a nearby counter and pulling himself back to his feet. He could hear Frank's strident laughter in the distance and ducked back down, but not before grabbing a large vase next to the cash register.

The laughter did not cease as Frank West strolled into Marriage Makers, stopping briefly to admire some gems in a nearby display case before approaching the front counter.

"Now to think of what I'm going to call this picture when I'm hanging it proudly on my wall," the photographer wondered aloud.

"How about 'Smile Pretty Shithead?'" Chuck retorted springing back to his feet and tossing the vase into his stalker. With his opponent stunned the furious father vaulted over the counter and delivered a front drop kick that sent the madman falling onto his back with a loud thud.

"You're going down, sicko!" Chuck shouted mounting the psychopath and driving his fist hard into his opponent's face, followed by another and another.

Unknown to them, the racket created by the scuffle was attracting more zombies to the jewelry store and it was when an undead woman stepped into view and let out a throaty roar that Chuck halted his assault and looked up.

The distraction created an opening for Frank and he delivered a karate chop to his opponent's throat, sending the man rolling to the marble floor next to him gasping for air.

Frank looked up to see the female zombie drawing closer and he barely dodged her lunging after him, instead grabbing her by the arm.

"Gotta present for you, friend!" the photographer cackled before performing a hammer throw that sent the woman running towards his opponent.

Chuck was just catching his breath when he found himself tackled back to the floor and the zombie woman on top of him, spittle covering his face as she drew her opened maw closer. Shooting his hands up he clamped onto both sides of her head to stymie her advance, yet she had proven deceptively stronger than her petite build would let on.

"The public is going to eat you up!" Frank quipped as he stood nearby snapping pictures of the ordeal.

Chuck could only grunt in frustration, thinking about wanting to break free and strangle that son of a bitch where he stood, yet here he was pinned down by the zombie woman still managing to inch closer to his face, her rancid breath so overpowering it was through sheer willpower alone he wasn't throwing up.

"She's already looking to sink her teeth into you," the psychotic photojournalist added with another snap of his camera.

The imperiled ex-racer turned away to glare at the madman, but then noticed the severed hand lying just inches away. An idea popped into his head and he knew it would be risky, but he didn't have time to sit around and ponder what could be.

Creating enough space between himself and the zombie Chuck brought his fist up and punched her in the jaw as hard as he could, rewarded with a sickening crack and several chipped yellow teeth falling down onto him. Shooting his free hand out he grabbed the hand and shoved it into the woman's mouth, leaving her to bite down on it and creating that crucial opening he needed.

"Talk to the hand!" he grunted as she still reached after him, but he managed to finally shove her aside and returned his attention to his adversary.

"You just want the keep the party going, don't you pal?" Frank chuckled.

"I want you to shut the hell up!" Chuck shouted lunging towards the madman and delivering a hard haymaker to his chin that sent him staggering backwards before following up with an uppercut that sent him tumbling backwards over a nearby trashcan. He attempted to follow up with a curb stomp, but Frank somehow had enough strength to roll out of the way and performed a sweep kick that sent the ex-racer falling back to the floor.

It was like this madman was driven by some kind of strange psycho power and Chuck was getting desperate to finish him off. It was then he looked over and saw his gore-covered spiked bat lying nearby. It was a brutal weapon that had shredded through various zombies thus far and he had hoped he wouldn't be forced to use it on another human being, but right now he was starting to reconsider his options as nothing else seemed to stop this guy.

Desperate times called for desperate measures and he picked the spiked bat up, drove the end into the madman's gut and sending him tumbling against the nearby railing, where he could hear the snarls of a horde congregating below.

_"You're not going to bother anyone else ever again," _Chuck thought to himself before drawing his back and delivering a powerful swing that sent the madman flying over the side.

"Score Chuck: 1 – Psycho Frank: 0," the ex-champ grunted before pulling out the apple given to him by Otis and eating it up before washing it down with the jug of coffee creamer. It wasn't the ideal combination, but it would have to do for now.

"And here I thought Rebecca was hungry for a scoop," Chuck said aloud as he looked over the railing and to the horde milling about. There were no signs of the psychopathic photographer other than the cracked remnants of his camera in the middle of a large crimson pool. "Guess they had a bigger appetite."

There was no time to rest on his laurels as it suddenly hit him.

"Shit! I'm supposed to go help Brad!" he hissed as the female zombie from earlier staggered towards him, the severed hand still shoved into her mouth. With a shrug of his shoulders he swung his spiked bat again and obliterated her skull, but also snapping his bat beneath the wear and tear, "Damn it!"

"I gotta get some new gear if I'm gonna help," Chuck muttered to himself while looking towards SporTrance's upper level, "and some new threads," he added looking down to his now crimson sleeves.

"Hang on Brad. I'm coming."

XXXXX

**Author's Note: **And so concludes my latest installment of "Case Greene."

In regards to this chapter there was a previous concern regarding me making Frank out of character without any kind of explanation, but given the fact that Frank is a photojournalist who "has covered wars ya' know," it would be safe to assume that he has seen plenty of messed up shit that would screw with anybody's head and that perhaps being exposed to the death and destruction of Willamette is what finally pushed him over the edge, or at least leave him jaded in an extreme way unseen by many, with a sprinkle of the "reporter looking for the scoop of the century above all else" stereotype, as was with that reporter lady from "Resident Evil: Apocalypse."

Well that's all folks so until next time read and review! This is Metal Harbinger saying SPREAD THE SICKNESS, ONE MIND AT A TIME! \m/


	6. Backup for Brad

Chapter 6: Backup for Brad

Following the stop by SporTrance, Chuck finally had some fresh clean clothes consisting of a cobalt blue Denver Gold basketball jersey along with matching shorts that had gold trim and some blue and white basketball high tops.

In addition to the new clothes he had gathered a few other items from the sporting goods store and then made a trip to the Paradise Plaza maintenance room to craft some more combo weapons.

Now he stood just outside the plaza's doors in Leisure Park looking over to the food court entrance across from him, surrounded by zombies. They must have heard the battle going on inside and were piling against the glass doors in one huge tidal wave of decay, leaving him to wonder how much time Brad had left. He wouldn't know until he cleared them out.

Leisure Park was a large enclosed outdoor space serving as home to a large clock tower in the center, several benches and ponds, flower gardens and a pavilion with picnic tables. On a normal day this looked like some place he would have taken Katey to, a place where he would have expected to kick back and listen to the birds singing while she played soccer with the other kids, maybe see some guy playing Frisbee with his dog, some artistic soul drawing a picture of the clock tower, a family grilling out...just normal mundane occurrences.

Now it was just another open graveyard filled with creatures straight out of a horror movie stumbling around drunkenly looking for their next meal.

"Let's hope this works," Chuck whispered to himself hefting a crude explosive device he crafted from a leftover propane tank and a box of nails. With a mighty_ 'oomph' _he tossed the I.E.D. into an area where a sizable amount of zombies had congregated. Pulling out the pistol Jessie had given him he took careful aim and fired a lone round, resulting in an explosion that sent nails flying in all directions and killed eight zombies in one sitting.

As expected the explosion caught the attention of the other zombies and they started staggering in the direction of the blast.

"Time to move," he told himself stepping onto his newly-acquired skateboard and began pushing himself down along the paved walkway, maneuvering his way around several zombies and even managing to bowl a few over before he drew closer to the food court's outside entrance and put away the board, drawing out a pair of boxing gloves he found in SporTrance, now outfitted with Bowie knives.

"Round 1," he called out running over to a nearby zombie and hacking across its face before driving his 'claws' through another attacker while using his other glove to slice through a third with an overhanded vertical slash.

_"Can't waste too much time with these yahoos," _he reminded himself as the horde grew and he was forced to charge forth along a narrow path, using a nearby tree to create some space between himself and the zombies, cutting down those who had gotten too close for comfort, his path of destruction concluding with a gory uppercut that took the head off a jaw-less man.

"Finished him," he said aloud, mentally hearing a boxing bell's jarring ring.

He found himself closer to the food court's entrance, finding it surrounded by another group of the living dead. There was no way around them and he was about to reach for a combo weapon he had just crafted, but stopped when he looked to the right of the glass doors and an evil grin crossed his features.

"Well what have we got here?" he asked aloud as he had just happened across a waiting lawnmower, one that looked like it could easily tear another path through.

"Time to have some fun," he said running over and pulling the cord.

The grating din caught the crowd's attention, but just as they were turning to face him Chuck was already mowing over most of them, sending blood and severed limbs flying all over and showering his new clothes with gore. He wanted to keep them coming to him for every one that died meant one less horror in the world. The bloody spectacle continued until the mower ran out of gas and the shredded remnants of forty zombies covered the once pristine grass.

"Damn it, you bastards are messy," the former champ grunted shaking some loose brain matter away from his exposed arms and then pulling one of the gore-covered glass doors open to make his way inside before any more of those freaks could entertain the thought of showing up and making his day worse than it needed to be.

He cautiously entered the food court, appearing devoid of the zombies plaguing it earlier, yet still finding himself on edge as he crept toward the stairs leading to the inner court. It was deathly silent and he felt tempted to call out for Brad wanting to make sure his trip had not been in vain. Before his foot could touch the bottom step he suddenly noticed the shadow in one of the windows of the 'Wild Range' exterior setup and heard the clicking of a gun.

"Shit," Chuck hissed and bolted as a volley of submachine gun fire followed until he dove for cover behind a partition. The motocross champion reached for his gun and listened for movement while creeping towards the corner. Peeking his head out, he was sent scurrying backwards as another volley of automatic fire pelted away at the wooden surface.

Gunfire came from his left and he looked over to see Brad firing a few shots before ducking behind the railing in front of Chris' Fine Foods. When he looked back to see the blond-haired man hiding across from him he could only shake his head in disgust. The ex-champ made a mad dash over and joined him behind the railing.

"Your uh...girlfriend sent me to find you," Chuck spoke as the agent reloaded his gun.

"Who, Jessie? Dammit! OK, we'll have to talk about this later. You know how to use that gun?" he demanded with a white knuckled grip on his own firearm.

"Well...I've never fired at a person!" Chuck shot back, "At least not at a living person," he muttered under his breath.

Brad sighed heavily before replying, "Alright, I'll cover you from here. You need to stick to the shadows. Try to get close to the target, okay?"

"And what am I supposed to do when I get close?" Chuck asked just as Brad popped out to fire a few more shots at their attacker.

"Well the best solution would be to shoot the guy, but if you can't do that then keep him busy dodging your bullets and stay out of trouble. Are you up to it?" Brad asked looking deep into his eyes.

"I'm a lot better with a motorbike, but yeah, I'll give it a shot," the former champ replied, shrugging his shoulders as he found himself talked into another situation there was no backing out of.

"Alright, next time he reloads. I'll lay down a suppressing fire. I'm counting on you. Make your way over there," Brad ordered motioning towards the stairs at the far left-hand side of the room near Teresa's Oven.

"Alright," Chuck muttered readying his pistol.

"1...2...3!" Brad shouted stepping out from behind the railing and opening fire.

The gunman focused his attention on Brad while Chuck ran over to the side stairwell without incident and raised his gun, the shooter ducking out of the way and his bullets sent whizzing harmlessly past the man's head. Undeterred he ran into the dining area and raised his gun to fire again and it was there he finally got a good look at their attacker.

"I see we meet again, my friend," the shooter called out in his thick Latin accent.

It was the same creepy man from the rooftop and he had him locked in the sights of his FN P90.

Chuck barrel rolled out of the way as the mans armor-piercing rounds tore through one of the tables near him before pulling out a pipe bomb and tossing it at his feet.

"Dammit," the former racer grunted as he vaulted over the counter of the Frozen Dreams ice cream stand to avoid the blast, landing hard on his side.

"I'm gonna enjoy killing this fruitcake," he muttered using the counter to pull himself back to his feet. _"Jesus Chuck, now you're starting to sound like a psychopath."_

He looked up to see the man running back and forth between cover, still exchanging gunfire with Brad, a spray of crimson seen as the man was hit. Chuck pulled himself over the counter and fired a few rounds at the shooter, one of his bullets hitting the man.

"You're finished!" the man shouted stopping to fire another salvo of hot lead, one of his rounds catching Chuck in the side and sending him staggering. Grunting through the pain he found a carton of milk and was preparing to drink it down before the madman reached for another pipe bomb and tossed it at him, sending him ducking into the adjoining Teresa's Oven pizza stand.

Chuck was still smarting from the gunshot as he leaped behind the counter and knocked over the cardboard boxes, each of them containing uncooked pizzas. "I'll be saving you for later," he said scooping them up and then chugging down the milk, waiting a few seconds before he could feel his health fully restored. Before making his way back into the open he noticed a box of baking ingredients and scooped that up as well, a plan developing in his head as he moved along.

He made his way back into the open to find the man standing atop Central Tacos exchanging gunfire with Brad. While they continued their back and forth battle Chuck rounded the exterior wall and used a table to steady himself before climbing to the gunman's level.

The nameless man took notice and fired upon Chuck, who ran along the upper catwalk returning fire until his gun clicked empty. Discarding the emptied pistol he pulled out the baking ingredients and tossed them into the man's face, temporarily blinding him. With his opponent temporarily subdued he pulled out the Defiler (a fire ax and sledgehammer taped together) and gave him a hard strike with the blunt portion knocking him backwards.

"You'll pay for that!" the gunman cried pushing himself back to his feet and delivering a hard roundhouse kick that knocked Chuck backwards and sent him crashing through another wooden table.

The former champ's entire world shook all around him and he once again felt that crippling pain surge throughout his body. Yet as it always was, his indomitable will would not allow him to stay down writhing in pain, especially when he knew there was a maniac nearby looking to blow him to kingdom come. Within seconds he was back on his feet and struggling to steady both his feet and his vision as he watched Brad continue to shoot it out with the madman.

"You're all going to die!" the gunman shouted as Brad's gunfire forced him into cover behind one of the main dining area's walls and reaching for another one of his pipe bombs.

"Not if I can help it!" Chuck shouted running over to Meaty's Burgers and grabbing a container of cooking oil. Mustering all of his strength he tossed it at the shooter and caused him to drop his explosive, which would then detonate at his feet.

Wounded, but not out of the fight, the gunman ran towards a rope hanging from the rafters and grabbed onto it. With a tug of the rope he was pulled up and out of sight.

"He got away," Chuck exclaimed catching his breath, "Who was that, anyway?"

"I don't know. Well, thanks for your help. The name's Brad," the bald man said formally introducing himself.

"I'm Chuck Greene, and right now I'd rather have an explanation than your thanks Brad," he shot back.

Brad shook his head.

"Sorry, I've got nothing to tell you. Look, I don't know what Jessie told you, but as far as I'm concerned we're through working together. So, you go do whatever you have to and leave the rest to us," the man spoke with a dismissive wave.

"Typical government stooge. Always looking to keep the people in the dark," a familiar feminine voice called out.

Chuck and Brad both turned to find Rebecca Chang approaching them with her camcorder in hand.

"Well I've got enough footage recorded and there will be no way you and your P.R. people can spin your way out of this. You might as well come clean," the reporter spoke in her boastful tone.

"Turn that damn thing off!" Brad shouted reaching angrily for her camcorder.

"I don't think he's gonna talk. You might as well go digging elsewhere," Chuck spoke up shaking his head.

A sly smile crossed Rebecca's features, "You don't know your way around these people very well, do you Mr. Greene? You know what they want to know and you'll have them singing like birds."

She then returned her attention to Brad, "You guys are looking for someone here, aren't you?"

The reporter held up her camcorder and rewound the footage back to their time in the Entrance Plaza, stopping when she came to the mysterious old man. When he saw the picture Brad froze in place with his mouth hanging open.

"Who is that? Where did you take that?" he demanded again reaching for the camcorder.

"You help me. I help you," Rebecca said drawing her arm back and shaking the camcorder threatening to drop it.

The agent was backed into a corner.

"Damn!" he bitterly spat walking away in disgust only to stop himself and abruptly turn on his heel.

"You're one hell of a journalist, aren't you Ms. Chang?" he said pointing at the woman, "A boisterous, loudmouthed, hotshot paparazzo with nothing better to do than to go around sticking your nose where it doesn't belong," he said getting in her face.

"What can I say? I try," she spoke with a demure smile, "You have a point?"

Brad sighed in defeat, "You win, both of you. Let's work together."

He took a deep breath before speaking, "Jessie and I are D.H.S. agents and yes, we're looking for the man in that picture."

"You're with homeland security? Is that guy a terrorist or something?" Chuck asked.

"We believe he might know something related to...unscrupulous activities," Brad replied.

"I recorded that footage in the Entrance Plaza. Right near the front door, some place called Everyone Luvs Books," Rebecca spoke.

"The Entrance Plaza? You're sure?" the agent asked.

"Plain as day," Rebecca said switching her camcorder off, "So, do I have your permission to cover this story...or not?" she asked with a playful pout.

"Ugh, fine. C'mon. We have to see if he's still there," Brad said leading the way.

Chuck and Rebecca followed from a safe distance and it was then he looked over to the woman, "Surprised you decided to drop in here of all places. You're gonna have to tell me if you've been digging up anything else around here."

"There really isn't much else at this point aside from a bunch of zombies running around, but like the classic saying goes, you never judge a book by its cover," she said before leaning closer to him, "I seriously think we could be sitting on top of something major here and the zombies are only the tip of the iceberg. I don't know what, but there is something else lurking in the shadows here. If we can get to it, maybe we can find out the cause of this entire outbreak."

"Would be worth finding out if it can prevent any other shit like this from going down in the future," Chuck replied.

The thought made Chuck pale. What if it was possible that some of those zombies could have made their way outside the confines of Willamette? With the way the 'virus,' or whatever it was, spread like wildfire he seriously began to wonder what would happen if this spread to large cities like New York, Los Angeles, Chicago, Las Vegas...the possibilities left the former motocross champion's stomach tightening.

_"Hopefully we can find out whatever is causing this shit and make sure it doesn't get any further. It's bad enough one small mountain community has to put up with this, but an entire country? Damn," _he thought to himself as he and Rebecca approached the doors leading to the Al Fresca Plaza, where Brad had already drawn his pistol and was gunning down several zombies.

"Not exactly my idea of a romantic evening," Rebecca quipped drawing her handgun.

"Unless you find being covered in zombie brains to be romantic," Chuck deadpanned pulling out the Defiler and readying himself for battle.

XXXXX

**Author's Note: **My latest installment concludes and probably faster than the last time. As Chuck Greene once said to the burning Leon Bell, "Yeah, you're on fire."

This is something that I normally wouldn't do in my other stories, but given the cartoonish nature of the "Dead Rising" series I found myself getting a little unrealistic with this battle where Chuck is able to be shot and thrown through a table and keep going seconds later and likewise Carlito is able to get up and running after having a bomb detonated at his feet, but then again that game is supposed to be zany and unrealistic since you are able to kill zombies with the most mundane of items, that and being able to pull off some MacGyver-type shit where you can turn a cuddly robotic teddy bear into a killing machine armed with a light machine gun, or being able to rig up a goblin mask so that it can shoot laser beams from its eyes with just a battery!

After all, I'm sure there are some who would question how a photojournalist can save the world from a zombie apocalypse, or be able to suddenly learn wrestling moves at the drop of a hat (unless he was trained by Mike Haggar beforehand!), or be able to take a round from a sniper rifle, be hacked with a machete, run over by a grocery cart fitted with sharp objects or be smacked by a flying bovine carcass and still walk away alive (and actually _walk_ away) in the end, yet Brad and Carlito actually show any damage when they are shot or stabbed in a cinematic sequence.

So yeah, try not to think too much of it if you managed to see Chuck survive worse in future chapters...

Well I think that's everything so as always read and review! This is Metal Harbinger saying SPREAD THE SICKNESS, ONE MIND AT A TIME! \m/


	7. The Doctor is Out

**UPDATED ON 3-4-2016: **This is the replacement chapter for the original. I have reworked the ending to help further along this story into Chapter 8.

**Author's Note: **Well it's been a long time, but I'm back after being sidetracked by other projects. I saw quite a few people had added this story to their favorites since then and that motivated me to finally get this up and running, so once again it's time for some zombie bashing good times!

XXXXX

Chapter 7: The Doctor is Out

"Sir, if you would just kindly come with us, we can wrap this whole thing up," Brad spoke in his most professional tone possible, only to be met with angry resistance.

"No, I'm not leaving until you can guarantee me safe passage through these..." the old man protested until he was again cut off by Brad.

"Just open the gate. It's for your own protection," Brad replied, his tone remaining concrete.

"I am not opening any gate, thank you very much! I'm going to stay right here where it's safe! Thank you and goodbye!" the old man shouted before walking away.

"Dr...Dr. Barnaby, sir! Dr. Barnaby?" Brad called out.

"Goodbye!" Dr. Barnaby snapped one last time before walking further into the store and out of sight.

Brad sighed heavily and returned his attention to his companions, both of whom waited patiently nearby.

"Well, what happened? You can't just arrest him?" Chuck asked taking his hands off his hips while Rebecca sat on a nearby bench.

"He turned down my offer to protect him! Said he isn't going anywhere until I can guarantee a secure route out of here. Jessie has a direct line to HQ. The first thing we need to do is call for backup," Brad said walking over to them only for Rebecca to suddenly stand up.

"Well, I'm not gonna sit around and wait for answers from some uncooperative old coot. The clock is ticking. One thing you learn from big scoops like this is that there's always a secondary source," she said checking to see how many bullets were left in her gun. "I saw a security substation over in Redfield Plaza. Maybe there is something there that can tell me more," she said running off.

Brad raised a hand to protest, but was cut off by Chuck.

"I'll go with her," he said chasing after the woman. "Just get back and get in touch with HQ!"

Chuck rounded the corner towards the Al Fresca entrance just in time to see Rebecca engaging several zombies, one of whom had been pushing a dolly with a gas canister chained to it. He looked down to find a discarded handgun lying near an overturned metal trashcan and scooped it up to find there were still a few bullets left in the clip.

"Rebecca, look out!" he shouted taking aim at the canister.

The reporter took note of his intentions and ran away from the horde, just as the biker took aim and fired a round that struck the canister head on, resulting in a detonation that sent most of the zombies flying backwards, some splattering against the nearby walls.

"Thanks. Now come on!" Rebecca said making her way around the charred carcasses and managing to avoid a few stragglers to reach the doors.

It would be evening soon and it seemed as if the zombies were becoming more aggressive as dusk approached, their senses sharpening and their speed increasing as the reporter drew nearer, prompting Chuck to scoop up a nearby parasol.

"Get behind me," he ordered, the opened umbrella protecting most of his body as he charged full speed through the throng of zombies, leaving a trail of broken bodies in his wake. He continued until the wooden support beam finally cracked under pressure and he discarded the bloodied sunshade as they reached the fountain at the end.

"Quick, climb in," he ordered.

"Are you serious?" Rebecca asked.

"It'll leave a barrier between us and them," he said pulling out his Defiler, only to stop himself as he noticed another 'gift' lying in the fountain's center.

"Score!" he triumphantly called out scooping up a newly-acquired submachine gun, yet deciding he would conserve the ammo for an emergency. Rebecca was next to him firing away at the approaching monsters, her shots drawing in more of those freaks. He doubted she would listen if he told her to stop so he ran up and swung away at the encroaching rotting bags of bones, knocking several backwards at once with each swing, "Quick! Run!"

The assertive reporter surprisingly did as she was told, pulling herself out of the fountain and rushing towards the food court entrance with the ex-motocross champ in tow, a few more zombies falling down with their skulls split in half before his massive Defiler finally broke in half.

"God dammit," he grunted pulling himself through one of the doors, _"I'll have to get me another one of those. It served me well."_

There were zombies still loitering about in the food court, yet they were mercifully far enough away for Chuck and Rebecca to pass through unmolested. Wonderland Plaza would be a different story.

_"Back to where all this shit started," _Chuck swallowed hard.

Most of the floor was still littered with the chewed up corpses from the massacre earlier in the day, all of them in various states of cannibalization, some of whom were still being feasted upon. He had been exposed to a horrendous amount of gore all day long, yet it was this particular sight which caused the racer's stomach to do a triple somersault and he ran over to the nearest trashcan to empty his lunch.

"Chuck, are you alright?" Rebecca asked running up behind him, watching his back with her gun at the ready as some nearby zombies were alerted by the sounds of his vomiting.

He was unable to reply for several seconds until he was positive he was done and let out one last bitter gag.

"No," he replied darkly.

He looked at the approaching zombies and recognized some of their faces. Most of the victims had now reanimated into those 'things.' They were once people with jobs, families, hopes, dreams, emotions...some of them had even been the same carefree children Katey had mingled with, boys and girls who will never get to grow up...

Now they were just empty shells driven by pure instinct. It was both a heartbreaking and disgusting sight.

_"What if I end up becoming like them?" _the voice inside his head asked.

"No," he whispered shaking his head violently to get those negative thoughts out of his head, "I _won't_ become like them."

"Chuck? Are you alright?" Rebecca asked looking over her shoulder towards him.

"Never better," he hissed back.

It was pure bullshit at its finest but he would say so if it got her off his case. He was soon cut off by the beeping of his transceiver.

"Hello?" he spoke into it.

_"Chuck, you're in Wonderland Plaza. The most popular attraction there is the 'Space Rider' roller coaster. Be careful around that, okay? It's not a toy!" _Otis sternly lectured him.

_"Gee thanks Grandpa," _he sarcastically thought to himself before speaking, "Alright, thanks for that tidbit," he said before hanging up. _"He called me for that? That little tidbit of all things? Next time it had better be damn important when he's gonna call me like that!"_

"Ready to go?" Rebecca asked.

"Right," Chuck said lifting up the metal trashcan and throwing it at a nearby zombie. The loud metallic clatter had drawn the attention of a few nearby zombies and he pulled on his knife gloves, "Alright, let's go!"

Rebecca took point managing to drop three zombies with carefully placed shots to their rotting craniums while Chuck hacked off the arm of an undead construction worker before burying his blades into the man's neck. He then encountered a zombified police officer and brought the blades down onto the crown of his skull before swinging his other gloved fist into the face of an overweight woman.

"Just barely scratching the surface," he deadpanned when noticing the large amount of zombies still present in the plaza. Furthermore, he noticed the child in the backwards baseball cap sneaking up on Rebecca, just inches away from grabbing her and sinking its rotting yellow teeth into her.

With a deep breath Chuck rushed the zombie child and slammed its claw glove right through its face in a sickly display that left him asking himself what he had just done.

"Thanks, I owe you one!" she shouted back as she passed the large inflatable pink rabbit and rushed towards the flight of stairs that would take them to the aforementioned Redfield Plaza.

Chuck remained silent, conflicted over what he had just been forced to do.

_"Keep your head in the game, Chuck. It's not a kid anymore. It's one of 'them,'" _the voice in his head reminded him, _"He would have attacked anybody like that."_

"Hey Greene, you still with me?" Rebecca called out.

Chuck shook the cobwebs out of his head and found himself lagging quite a ways behind. Making his way around the Beautification kiosk he scooped up a large potted plant nearby and tossed it into the face of another zombie cop before shoulder butting him to the ground and running over to catch up with Rebecca, who had just fired a point blank shot into the face of a backpack-wearing woman.

"Done having your fun yet?" she asked narrowing her dark eyes at him.

"Sure," he sarcastically replied as they climbed the stairs to their next destination.

The ran down a large corridor before they were entering Redfield Plaza and it was then Chuck's transceiver rang again.

"What now?" he grunted pulling it out of his pocket and speaking, "What's up Otis?"

_"You are now entering the Redfield Plaza. It's our largest plaza here. There's a few restaurants if you get hungry, some clothing stores for fresh duds, an automotive shop, and a furniture store, plenty for you to check out there," _the janitor spoke.

_"Something actually useful for once," _Chuck thought to himself before speaking, "Alright, thanks."

"He must really like talking to you," Rebecca spoke.

"You don't know the half of it," Chuck replied while walking past a cardboard cutout that caught his attention, one of current motocross champion Leon Bell, advertising a meet and greet session over at Auto-Worx. Needless to say that was now likely canceled given the current circumstances.

Indeed Redfield Plaza had been the largest plaza he visited thus far, standing three stories tall and octagonal in shape with what looked to be some sort of miniature botanical garden as its centerpiece complete with palm trees, a miniature waterfall, and more flamingo statues than he would have liked. Aside from the faux tropical oasis, the plaza was the typical assortment of clothing boutiques, bookstores and restaurants in addition to a video arcade that made the teenager inside of him take notice.

"Alright, it's over there!" Rebecca called pointing westward towards a red door nestled between the Wave of Beauty beauty salon and Cindy's Dry Cleaning.

"Ladies first," Chuck said pulling one of the plastic flamingos out of the fake grass and driving it into the eye socket of an armless woman, ending her suffering once and for all as the duo made their way across a narrow walkway towards the office.

"See if it's unlocked," she instructed.

Chuck nodded and reached for the doorknob, giving it a few twists to no ado.

"Here...let me try," the reporter spoke nonchalantly.

"Don't bother – it's locked," the former champ spoke.

Rebecca reached into her pocket and pulled out a lock pick, working with practiced precision even as the moans of the zombies called out from a distance.

"You've got some interesting...skills, for a reporter," Chuck remarked as the view gave him a glimpse of her perfectly rounded buttocks.

"No one ever got an award playing by the rules, Chuck," she replied, the door clicking open a second later and her stepping aside to let him enter first.

The duo entered the security substation to find it ransacked.

Computer consoles had been smashed, most of the monitors were shot out and those still active displayed only static, and worse, three guards lay motionless before them with all of their bodies riddled with bullets.

"What the hell?" Chuck asked taking in the massacre before him.

"Wow, looks like somebody doesn't want us finding something out," Rebecca said walking further into the room.

Chuck walked over to a nearby desk and picked up the splintered remnants of a computer's motherboard. "Dammit! There's nothing here that we can use. Everything's been destroyed," he said tossing it aside.

"Chuck – check this out," Rebecca called to him and he looked over to find her with her camera switched on and hovering over one of the dead guards, a sight that unnerved Chuck, making him think of that psychotic photojournalist from Paradise Plaza.

The former racer quickly shook those thoughts out of his head and walked up alongside the woman to observe the guard slouched in his swivel chair, a lone bullet having pierced his skull. "No zombie did that," he remarked and then knelt down to scoop up a handful of spent bullet casings, "I think I might have an idea. These look like the same kind of rounds that creep from the food court was using. He must be responsible for all of this. He's trying to cover up something, but what?"

Rebecca snapped her fingers, "I remember Dr. Barnaby saying something about someone sending for him. Do you think those two could be related somehow?"

"I don't know and I honestly doubt either one of them is gonna be willing to sit down and offer you an exclusive interview," Chuck bitterly spat letting the metal casings fall to the floor. "So much for your 'secondary source.' Everything's been destroyed and we don't have a reason to hang around here any longer. Come on, we might as well get back to Jessie and Brad."

"Are you always so quick to jump to conclusions?" Rebecca asked cocking an eyebrow.

"What are you talking about?" he demanded.

The reporter stood tall over a body sprawled on the floor and after some initial hesitation nudged the dead guard onto his side and with hastily reached into his pocket to pull out a folded up piece of paper. She opened it up and carefully looked it over before remarking "Well, we could be onto something after all."

Chuck walked up and looked over her shoulder to see a photocopied map labeled _'Maintenance Tunnels'_ with six spots that had been circled.

"Think it's supposed to mean something? It looks like an ordinary map to me, like you'd expect any security guard to have," he remarked.

"Do you not watch enough spy movies? Why else do you think there would be six spots circled at random points around? Something's gotta be going down!" Rebecca said in excitement. "This just keeps getting better and better."

"Well whatever it is, we'd better tell Brad about this. Maybe there's something he can do about it," Chuck said, but was cut off by a harsh laughter as the reporter shoved the map into her pocket.

"Are you serious? Do you really think G-Man is going to let the public know the truth if he gets his hands on this? This is the kind of information they would kill you in your sleep over because they 'don't warm to alarm the populace.' The truth must be reported and that is my responsibility," Rebecca spoke crossing her arms.

Chuck growled in annoyance and was about to speak, only to be cut off by the transceiver ringing. With a strained effort he picked it up, "What's up Otis?"

_"Hey Chuck, you're still over in Redfield Plaza, right? There's a woman lying on the floor of the Beach Body Swim House shop. She looks like she is barely alive. You better hurry and get her! Not only that, there's a couple fellas holed up in the Wild West Grill House. You might wanna give 'em a hand when you get the chance," _the janitor spoke.

Chuck looked over to Rebecca, who was now reclining on one of the consoles reviewing her gathered footage, "Go ahead and play your hero game. I'm a grown woman and I can handle myself. I'll meet you back at the security office."

With a shrug Chuck turned towards the door and was about to reenter the plaza before stopping to speak, "Believe me. You and I are going to have a nice long chat about that after all is said and done."

The snarls of the ravenous horde had reached a near deafening pitch, but thankfully the zombies were far enough away and thus giving Chuck the time to make his way to a nearby store directory and find out that the aforementioned restaurant was on the third floor and that the other location was within walking distance, looking over to find the wood paneled exterior with a bunch of surfboards propped up in the display windows. Pulling on his knife gloves the ex-champ readied himself for a fight and made his way towards the swimwear shop, stopping to cut down the few ghouls that had stepped into his path in typical gory fashion before he was pulling himself through the front entrance.

The swimwear shop looked out of place in a small mountainous Colorado community with its skimpy clothes and beach theme, yet it remained strangely untouched by the chaos outside. Still, he couldn't get too complacent and Chuck equipped his submachine gun as he crept towards the back room, stopping as he came across a mannequin displaying a banana hammock.

"Not in this lifetime," he whispered with a shudder, utterly grossed out at the thought of a string riding up his ass crack.

He heard a weak groan coming from the back and slowed his pace, waiting alongside the opened shutters before entering the small space where the tanning beds lay and found a bikini-clad woman slumped against the opened one in the middle, every inch of her exposed skin badly sunburned from overexposure to the tanning lamps.

"Lady, are you alright?" he asked kneeling down beside the woman, not wanting to touch her and further aggravate a massive burn.

"Please, please help me," she pleaded looking up to him, "I was stuck in that tanning bed. The staff ran away or something...oh god, I'm so parched. I can barely move," she whimpered.

"I'll say. You're baked," Chuck said looking her over, "Literally."

"This can't be good for my tan lines," she muttered, annoying the former champ who thought she should be more thankful she was even alive period, "What's going on out there?" she asked hearing the noises.

Chuck looked at the woman hard before returning his attention towards the front of the store, "You're not going to believe me if I tell you, but there's been a zombie outbreak."

Her dark eyes widened in horror and she opened her mouth to reply only to be cut off by Chuck. "Listen, I can take you somewhere safe. You just have to trust me."

"Oh, I'm so thirsty. I can barely move. Please, do you have anything to drink?" she asked.

Chuck was about to shake his head, when he suddenly snapped his fingers, remembering some water bottles on the front counter. "Hold on one second. Just stay here and don't make too much noise."

The ex-racer made his way back to the front to find one of the zombies had made its way inside. Finding an ornamental tiki torch nearby he scooped it up and impaled the rotting man through the skull, hoping none of his buddies would be quick to follow. Finding a water bottle on the counter he grabbed it and ran back to the sunburned woman.

"Oh, thank you so much! I was feeling like a raisin there for a moment," she said eagerly accepting the bottle and guzzling down its contents.

"Alright, well I'm gonna get you out of here, but first there are some other people I have to help out so I'm gonna have to bring you along. My name is Chuck by the way," he said lifting the woman into his arms and taking her out of the swimwear store.

"I'm Linette," she replied looking around and wincing when she saw all the zombies staggering about, "and I thought the bad service was the most of my worries."

"Looks like you were wrong," Chuck said dodging another horde and making his way over to the escalator that took him to the second floor and immediately to the one that would take him to the third floor.

It wasn't long before the duo was coming to the Wild West Grill House, which almost looked like an Old Western-style saloon from the outside. He could hear the feral snarls of zombies from within, followed by a volley of gunshots that made Linette cry out in surprise.

"Get the fuck away you rotting freaks!" he heard a man's voice calling out.

"Be quiet," Chuck whispered to the woman, who only latched onto him tighter upon hearing more small explosions coming from within.

The restaurant's carpeted floor was littered with zombie corpses, most of whom had fallen thanks to either gunshots or having their skulls bashed in. There were still more undead moans and shots coming from the back. It gave Chuck a bad feeling and he let go of Linette and sat her down in one of the gaudy cow-patterned booths.

"Wait here. I'll be back for you," he said pulling out his submachine gun and creeping towards the back where the full bar was located.

Taking cover behind a wooden partition he was drawing closer to the scene of the battle, jumping backwards as a zombie fell before him with its face obliterated.

"Don't just stand there! I'm getting low on ammo. Help me kill these things goddammit!" the same man shouted.

"But there's too many of them!" a panicked voice called back.

Chuck poked his head around the corner to see two men barricaded behind the bar, one a pudgy man in a Denver Gold basketball jersey armed with a baseball bat and the other a heavily-tattooed fellow wearing a black tank top advertising the British Gothic rock group Angel Lust, the one carrying the pistol. There was a mass of corpses blanketing the floor in front of them, the last zombie falling compliments of a round between the eyes.

"Is that all of them?" the pudgy man whimpered.

"No! We've got one more!" the pistol-toting man shouted taking notice of Chuck and firing a round his way, forcing the former champ back into hiding.

"Don't shoot! I'm not one of them!" Chuck shouted back.

"Well if you're not one of those brain eating zombies, you're one of those green-masked bastards looking to drag us off to God knows where!" the gunman called back. "Why don't you come on out and we can end this!"

"I'm not here to hurt you. I know of a safe place and I can take you there," Chuck called.

"Yeah right, and how do we know you're not gonna stab us in the back when we get to this 'safe place' of yours, pal?" the shooter retorted.

"Look, I'm dropping my guns now. I'm gonna step out into the open and we're going to chat man to man," Chuck replied.

It was a risky move, but he needed to show these men he wasn't a hostile and he tossed both his submachine gun and pistol to the floor in plain view. "I'm stepping out now. Don't shoot!"

Placing his hands above his head the former champ walked into the open and came to a halt, making sure he was near the partition in case he needed to dive for cover.

"Alright, here I am. My name is Chuck Greene and I'm here to take you guys to safety," he repeated.

"Holy shit! Wade, that's Chuck Greene, the motocross champ!" the pudgy man blurted out.

In spite of the tense standoff the former champ couldn't help but chuckle, "Glad to see one of my fans is still alive. Listen to me, I'm here to help. There is a security office in the Paradise Plaza I can take you to if you're willing to cooperate."

The gunman called Wade still regarded him with great suspicion, whereas his friend lowered his bat and stared eagerly towards him, "C'mon Wade, he seems legit. We should follow him. It's better than being constantly on the run."

Wade kept his eyes locked on Chuck before taking a deep breath and carefully lowering his gun, "Alright, we'll follow you. You try anything funny, don't think for one second I won't do to you what I did to those zombies."

"You have my word," Chuck replied and he waited for both men to step out from behind the bar before reaching down to reclaim his guns.

"Um, Mr. Greene, when we get some free time do you think maybe I could get an autograph? Make it out to Skylar," the pudgy man spoke.

"I'll definitely hold you to that," Chuck smiled leading the men back into the main dining area where Linette still waited for them. "Alright, let's get moving," he said scooping the bikini-clad woman into his arms.

The quartet made their way back into the open, Wade gunning down any zombies who shambled into his sights and Skylar striking down a few that had gotten close to him, albeit with great hesitation. They had descended the escalator to the second floor and were about to make their way down to the lower level when they heard another man calling out.

"Somebody there! Help! Help please!"

"That came from over there," Wade said pointing over to another store called In the Closet.

Chuck nodded and motioned for his companions to follow after him into the skater-themed men's clothing store. He made his way behind the counter and set Linette down before turning to the two armed men, "Stand guard. I'm going to see what's up," he said making his way into the storage room to find an overweight bespectacled man in a dark red striped shirt and green baseball cap trapped behind a large stack of cardboard boxes.

"Hold on just a second, sir," Chuck said and with a mighty heave proceeded to clear the stack of heavy boxes and thus liberating the portly man.

"Whoo! Whatta relief to finally get out! I owe you one! I was just trying to get the place arranged when the whole pile came down on me. I've been trapped in here all day. The mall's open today right? It's not a holiday. I wonder why no one passed by until now..." he said looking around, the employee's name tag identifying him as 'Bill.'

"You were stuck in here all day? You haven't had contact with anyone?" Chuck asked while listening for any sounds from outside.

"Yeah, unbelievable isn't it?" Bill replied, "I've lost a lot of weight, but it was no picnic. Well, I guess I'll just head home then. I mean the company owes me one right? They won't care if I knock it off a bit early. Thanks a lot man! See you around!"

Before Chuck could raise a hand in protest the big man was running out of the closet and letting out a blood-curdling shriek a second later.

"What the hell's goin' on out there!?" he shouted upon seeing the zombies for the very first time, who were drawn in by the fresh meat and approaching the store's entrance.

"Wow, you have been hiding under a rock," Wade commented raising his gun to put down another undead pest.

"I'm afraid we've got a zombie problem," Chuck replied raising his submachine gun and riddling another approaching monster with a flurry of lead.

"So much for goin' home," Bill sighed.

"Come back to the security room with us. It is a good place to relax for a while," Chuck replied blasting another zombie to back to the grave before reaching down to pick up Linette.

"Whatever you say, kind sir," Bill replied.

"Thank me later," Chuck spoke leading the quartet back into the plaza and making his way for the nearest exit.

XXXXX

The cheery electronic _'ding'_ filled the air and with it the quintet emerged from the elevator, all of them stopping to catch their breath following an arduous journey back to the Paradise Plaza plagued by several close calls.

"Damn, this is all just too damn unreal," Wade said slinking against a nearby wall and letting his nearly emptied pistol clatter from his hand.

"I can't believe this. How could there be such a thing as zombies?" Bill gasped, getting more exercise than he had anticipated on the run back.

"We'll have to worry about that later. For now just come on," Chuck said scooping Linette back up and leading them over to the vent.

Following yet another cramped commute the survivors emerged and were overjoyed to find other human beings still alive.

"You're so sweet," Linette said throwing her arms around Chuck before stepping back a second later as a fresh wave of pain washed over her burnt skin. "I don't suppose you have any aloe?"

"I'm afraid not, ma'am. Just worry about staying alive for now," Chuck said reaching over and grabbing a pen and piece of paper to give Skylar Ali his promised autograph.

"Thanks a million, dude! I can't believe I got to meet THE Chuck Greene!" Skylar said pumping his fist triumphantly in the air.

"It was my pleasure," Chuck said giving the man one last handshake before he disappeared into the back.

"Hey Chuck, you'd better get your butt in there. I think they're discussin' somethin' important," Otis said motioning towards the office and with a nod he made his way in to find Brad, Jessie and Rebecca call congregated.

"Hmmm. So that's what Dr. Barnaby said, huh?" Jessie asked leaning back in her swivel chair.

"The old coot's not dumb. He wants us to call for help first. We got a line out, or what?" Brad asked uncrossing his arms and walking up behind his partner.

Jessie turned to check her laptop and typed in a few commands before grunting in frustration.

"Ugh! The signal's being blocked...I can't even contact HQ on the emergency line," she sighed rubbing her aching temples.

"I'm not getting any reception either," Rebecca said checking her cell phone, "No way I can get in touch with my station. There goes my option. They'd come get me – hell, they'd come get everyone," she said looking over to Chuck, remembering what he had said earlier in the day, but wondering whether or not he was still blowing smoke.

"So, if we want to get our hands on Dr. Barnaby, we're gonna have to secure a way out of here ourselves," Brad said scratching the back of his neck, "Alright, we've gotta deal with the situation we've been handed. The boneheads back at HQ might be workin' on something too," he said walking towards the door.

"There's a helicopter coming. Three days from now...at noon. It's my ride," Chuck spoke up, inviting suspicious stares from Brad and Jessie, while Rebecca still seemed to regard him with skepticism.

"Is your ride reliable?" Brad asked.

"Absolutely. That's how I plan on getting outta here," Chuck replied as Rebecca crossed her arms.

"Like some middle of nowhere charter pilot is going to be that dependable, especially if he's making you wait for three freaking days," the reporter said rolling her eyes.

"Hey, Ed's a good guy! We watch each others' backs. I know he'll pull through for me," Chuck shot back.

Brad ignored the spat and stayed focus on Chuck, "Alright then. I'll see to it that the DHS picks up the charter fee. Can we take Dr. Barnaby as well?"

"Sure...as long as you tell us what's going on," Chuck said looking over to Rebecca.

"Okay. I'll tell you what you want to know...later. We have more pressing business right now. If we have to wait here for 3 days, we'll need supplies. Uh food, water, blankets and the like. We'll get Dr. Barnaby here tomorrow morning," Brad explained before looking over to Jessie just as Otis appeared in the doorway.

"I think I might have a solution too," she spoke up typing in a few more commands to bring up the image of a food truck with its back doors opened as several zombies staggered about drunkenly.

"That's from the West Docks. They have a shipment like that coming in over at the grocery store at the middle of every week," the old janitor spoke walking over to view the feed for himself.

"Very well," Brad nodded and was about to speak to Jessie just as there was a sudden flash of movement and he nearly knocked his colleague from her seat as he threw himself in front of the monitor.

Chuck, Rebecca and Otis all walked up behind him to see what the commotion was all about and they looked to see several of the zombies falling after being riddled with gunfire, followed by two hooded figures stepping into view and then three more going after the truck.

"What the hell?" Rebecca asked.

Brad narrowed his eyes at the looters before replying, "I don't know who those clowns think they are, but we need those supplies."

He then turned his attention to Chuck, "You've been doing pretty well thus far. Think you'd be up for cracking a few heads?"

Chuck's thoughts shifted back to that psycho photojournalist from Paradise Plaza and he thought to himself that if he was able to take down one madman, then he should be capable of taking out a few piss ant hoodlums. He slowly nodded his head before replying, "You got it," just as Rebecca cleared her throat.

Brad then turned his attention to her and narrowed his dark eyes, "And I want you to stay out of trouble. I don't want you going around losing your head over some story."

"He is going to need help getting those supplies you know," she said standing akimbo.

"Which is why I will be going along with him," Brad said pointing to himself with his thumb.

"Whatever," Rebecca spat taking out her camera and reviewing her gathered footage.

Brad brushed off the woman's protest before looking back to Jessie and pointing, "I want you to keep an eye on the monitors. The second something anything comes up, you let us know."

The veteran agent then looked over to Chuck and checked to make sure his pistol was loaded, "Are you ready?"

"There's one thing I need to do quick," Chuck replied before making his way through the nearby door.

Chuck stepped into a corridor with entrances leading to five different colored doors (green, blue, purple, yellow and red respectively), a unisex restroom and a stairwell leading to the heliport. He could hear the gathered survivors chatting among themselves in the rooms, all seeming to do whatever they could to keep their heads through this ordeal. Eventually he turned a corner to find a green couch where Katey was sitting with her eyes locked on her Joy-Boy 3000's screen. The young girl looked up to see her father approaching and immediately paused her game to run over and give him a big hug.

"Daddy, you came back!"

"Hi sweetie, how are you doing?" he asked holding his daughter close, never wanting to let her go.

"Doing great Daddy. I know you've told me not to take candy from strangers, but Mrs. Meyer really wanted me to have it," the 8-year old said reaching into her pocket and pulling out a few gumballs. "She is very nice and so is Mr. Meyer."

Chuck smiled and sat down on the couch next to her, "I'm glad to hear you are doing alright. I know this has been a difficult time, but please know that I am doing everything I can for your own safety."

"I don't like you going out there and being around all those bad people, but I know you're doing it for all of us. I have the best daddy in the world," Katey replied, her blue eyes beaming brightly.

The words warmed his heart and for a few seconds the troubles all around him melted away. It relieved him he was still capable of feeling such emotion after being surrounded by so much death and destruction within the span of the past few hours. There was still beauty left in the world and he was holding it in his arms.

"You're right and Daddy is going to make sure that you and everybody else makes it out of this alive," Chuck said pulling away.

"Pinkie promise?" she asked extending her pinkie finger to him.

"Pinkie promise," he said returning the gesture.

XXXXXX

**Author's Note: **Well it took me a while to get through this, but I finally managed to get this chapter up albeit with a few minor changes.

The Redfield Plaza is an original touch that I wanted to put in and is named after Chris Redfield from the "Resident Evil" series. Most of the shops would be inspired by locations from DR2 with the In The Closet here being inspired by the skater-themed design used in DR2 as opposed to the more generic design used in the first game. I purposely moved the store over to the Redfield Plaza as a means of modifying the rescue sequence with Bill Brenton.

For survivors rescued in this chapter:

**Linette Watkins, 24**

**Skylar Ali, 26**

**Wade Coopwood, 32**

**Bill Brenton, 39**

Well I think that's everything so until then read and review! This is Metal Harbinger saying SPREAD THE SICKNESS, ONE MIND AT A TIME! \m/


End file.
